


Sometimes, Breathing Won't Cut It

by anotherday_anotherfic



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Slow Burn, also the 29 chapters is a little tentative, because what victuuri fic is complete without it, i abuse elipses, i also abuse italics, it'll either be that number or give or take 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2018-12-10 11:37:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 30,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11690841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherday_anotherfic/pseuds/anotherday_anotherfic
Summary: The last thing Yuuri expected was to get a coaching contract with Yakov Feltsman, of all people.No, scratch that, the REAL last thing he expected was for Victor Nikiforov to be so handsy.(or, the AU no one asked for in which Yuuri moves to Russia under Yakov after 4 years in Detroit-before Sochi! Yuuri is of course nervous to train with Victor and hide his various merch from the same man, but what Yuuri doesn't know is that Victor has a few posters of his own.)





	1. A Drink May Be Needed

**Author's Note:**

> i'm tired and anxious, but what else is new?

Yuuri was sure that by now, so close to landing in Russia yet still thousands of feet in the air, his skin was the color of a glass of milk. Unclenching his fists and calming his breathing was a mission he wouldn’t wish on anyone.  

The looks from the flight attendants and neighboring passengers weren’t helping either.

Yuuri appreciated the concern, he really did, but attention from strangers is _not_ what he wanted during an anxiety attack on an airplane heading for what may make or break his career; a skating contract with Yakov Feltsman.

Yuuri still isn’t completely sure _how_ or _why_ Coach Feltsman had seen him skate and decided to take him on. He’s not looking a gift horse in the mouth, but if you were a dime-a-dozen JSF skater/college student training in Detroit, you’d too question what the _coach of Victor Nikiforov_ wanted with you.

The plane shook and lurched down with turbulence, making Yuuri feel even sicker.

Usually, his anxiety did not affect his stomach--Yuuri tends to eat his feelings--but today was an exception, apparently (great.).  

He had been quite reluctant to accept the contract when Feltsman offered it via email to him towards the end of the last season. Yuuri had obviously first brought it to Celestino--after Phichit had shrieked and cried over his shoulder in their dorm, that is. Apparently, his coach already knew it was coming! (the nerve!) Their contract had been up for renewal anyway, and Feltsman had already spoken to Celestino about him.

_He’s noticed your abilities, but I’m leaving it up to you_ , Celestino had said. _This is an amazing opportunity. I’m not telling you to leave, but if you need to move on from here, do it. Do what is best for you._

It was good advice, and Yuuri took it to heart. There was so much to consider about the situation; Yuuri had only been in Detroit for about 4 years, and the idea of moving to another foreign country so soon was a bit sickening. The culture shock, the language, transferring his college studies to an online program...Yuuri’s really hurting himself thinking like this.

The flight attendant trying to offer him a refreshment is hurting a bit, too. Honestly, how could he drink anything like this? With his harsh, shallow breathing Yuuri was more likely to gurgle a drink up and out of his throat like an underwater volcano than actually, you know, _drink it_.

(Anyway...)

On the other hand: Yakov Feltsman has pretty much the best track record as a skating coach, _ever_. He produces champions left and right; Mila Babicheva in Women’s Singles, Yuri Plisestky in Men’s Singles Juniors, numerous ice dancers, and of course, Victor Nikiforov himself.

Again, a lot to consider.  

Yuuri is eternally thankful to Celestino, and always will be, but he would be lying if he said he felt completely content with the coach.

Celestino got him on his feet, but they’ve already spent a while together. A lot of it fruitful but lately...

Yuuri feels restless. He wants to take more risks, and he knows Ciao Ciao means well but sometimes, _sometimes_ he gives Yuuri too much of an out, and Yuuri knows it.  

_I want to do more. I want to_ be _more. Maybe, this is the change I need._

After multiple panic attacks, stress-crying sessions, daunting talks with various school and ISU officials, lots of well-timed movie and junkfood nights with Phichit, and finally, a tearful goodbye at the Detroit Metropolitan Airport, here he was on a rather panicky flight to St. Petersburg, Russia.

Yuuri’s leg bounced violently against the hard floor, and he tried to ignore the looks of concern and vague irritation from his seat-mates. Yuuri knows he should quit it and sit still but _oh god_ , his mind is running a mile a minute with everything that could ever possibly go wrong.

_What if I arrive and immediately get lost, even with the person Coach Feltsman sent to pick me up? What if that person gets lost? What if I’m as awkward as ever and screw up like with everything else I’ve ever done? What if I get to the rink and Coach realizes I’m not worth it and sends me away?_

_Oh, god, I’d be the biggest laughing stock of the century! Knowing my luck it’s going to happen in front of Victor, and then he’ll know I’m a below-average human being from a nobody town in Japan, and god how did I ever think this would be ok?!_

_What if...what if-!_

The plane’s sterile announcement tone snapped Yuuri out of his increasingly self-deprecating thoughts.

“Please, put away your electronic devices, fold your tray tables, and return your seats to their upright position. We’ll soon be landing in the Pulkovo Airport in St. Petersburg, Russia. We hope you had a good flight, and thank you so much for flying American Airlines!”

Well.

That was definitely the least restful 12 hours of Yuuri’s life.

And now all that was left to do was walk the funeral march to what may be the worst decision of his life.

_Here we go._

* * *

Getting off the plane was much easier than getting on, Yuuri thinks. Entering a giant, cold machine in the shape of a Tylenol pill with bad airflow and stuffed to brim with other people wasn’t the most calming thing in the world.

But now that his head was clearer with fresh air, Yuuri waited for his luggage, fidgeting with his medical mask, and tried to think of how Phichit and Ciao Ciao would help him calm down.

_Steady your breathing. In seven seconds, hold seven seconds, out seven seconds. Again...again...again._

Time passes and okay, luggage is here. Yuuri feels a bit better with just deep breaths and something familiar in his hands.

Yuuri readjusts his backpack over his shoulder and unhooks the handle to his rolling luggage. Now all he had to do was find whoever Feltsman had sent to escort him to the skater’s dorms he was staying in. They should have a sign, or at least that’s what Coach said.

_What if they forget the sign or I don’t see it and-_

Yuuri forces that thought into the farthest recesses of his mind before he can panic again. He just calmed down, dammit!

Yuuri walks a few steps forward into the passenger pickup area, expecting to be practically searching for the Holy Grail of pickup drivers.

But, apparently, he didn’t need to look much at all.

_At all_ being the key phrase. 

“Yuuri! Yuuri Katsuki!”

Yuuri froze and whipped his head so fast towards that chillingly familiar voice he felt his neck crack.

_No,_ he thought, _there's no way-_

And yet, a several yards down, the crowds parted to reveal Victor Nikiforov, the Living Legend, the hero of Russia, Yuuri’s _idol_ , holding a sign with his name neatly printed in both English and Japanese. Victor wore a lovely heart-shaped smile one could see a mile away along with his _clearly_ designer clothing (very different from Yuuri’s drab brown coat and blue jeans combo). His silver hair practically shone in the afternoon light. Victor was perfect, and Yuuri couldn’t move, only stare on in wonder.

One thought came to Yuuri in that life-changing moment.

_Screw breathing exercises;_ _I’m going to need a hard drink to come down from this one._


	2. It Could Be Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri and Victor meet. 
> 
> Victor is not what Yuuri is expecting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The movie reference last time was: Airplane! (1980). There's no reference this time, but there will probably be ones to come later. 
> 
> I'm a film buff.

Yuuri didn’t really register the movement around him until he had walked right up to Victor Nikiforov. 

_ Like I’m caught in his pull...but isn’t everyone? _

Yuuri then had enough self preservation to realize that he was close to Victor. And Victor was close to him. And Victor was staring at him too, wide eyed, like he couldn’t believe it. Yuuri jumped three steps back in response, nearly bumping into a woman on the phone. 

_ Oh god _ , Yuuri thinks,  _ first I just march right up to Victor Nikiforov while saying nothing like a complete weirdo, and then make a fool of myself in front of him. No wonder he was surprised, he probably didn’t expect such a clumsy creep to be training with him! _

Victor stared a few seconds more, mouth slightly ajar, before shaking his head a bit-- _ oh no, that’s cute _ \--and his smile was restored. Victor lowered the sign into one hand.

“Hi, Yuuri! Welcome to Russia, how was your flight?”

This is the first time Yuuri has heard Victor’s voice outside a recording and it was  _ magical _ . Perfect English with a light Russian accent rolling over the syllables...oh no, Yuuri hasn’t responded yet. But before he can say anything, Victor continues on.

“Oh, but where are my manners? I’m Victor Nikiforov. It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you.” Lovely words complete with an outstretched hand and a  _ wink _ . A wink! Yuuri must be dreaming, there's no way Victor Nikiforov just winked at him.

Oh shit, his hand.

Long fingers clad in a black leather glove with another strip of leather around the wrists, completed with a golden button clasp. Yuuri gets his act together enough to reach his hand out in response, tugging down his mask with his other hand.

Yuuri opens his mouth and-

“I know.”  _ Fuck,  _ “Er, I mean, I know because, who doesn’t know who you are? Right, ha.” Yuuri clears his throat and looks to the floor in embarrassment. “Yuuri Katsuki.” 

He can hear Victor laugh as they clasp hands. 

“I know.” Victor parrots, and although Yuuri isn’t looking up, he can hear a smile in his voice. Hopefully he’s not thinking about how much of a wreck Yuuri is. 

They’re silent for a few moments before Victor starts speaking again.

“Are you alright? You don’t look like you’re feeling well.” 

Yuuri finally looks up at the unexpected question. Victor has concern written across his features--brows furrowed, cerulean eyes soft and light, and a little frown. A light flush on his cheeks too, most likely from the cold spring air. 

Yuuri realizes at this point that they’re still shaking hands. No, not even shaking, their hands aren’t moving!  _ Yuuri is currently holding hands with Victor Nikiforov _ . 

He whips his hand from Victor’s and joins it with the other behind his back for safe keeping. Victor takes his hand back as well, albeit slower, and holds the name the name sign in front of him vertically with both hands. Victor’s fingers twitch around the edges of the poster board-- _ why something fancy like poster board? _ \--as if he was nervous.

_ But why would he be nervous to meet me? _

“Ah, no no!” Yuuri says, “It’s just ah, jetlag. I’m tired, I’m tired.”

Victor’s eyes widen in understanding and he stands a bit straighter. 

“Oh, I see! Well, let me carry one of your bags then!” 

Yuuri’s eyes must be as wide as saucers. He waves his hands frantically in the air; a rather embarrassing habit to show in front of Victor. 

“Oh no no no! You don’t have to really! Don’t do anything on my behalf!”

“Please, I insist!” Victor smiles imploring, “it’s really no trouble.” He reaches a hand out to touch Yuuri’s rolling luggage. With the movement, his head lowers much closer to Yuuri’s. “Please, let me do this for you?” 

Victor is staring into his eyes, his voice is low, and  _ my god _ Yuuri is the color of a lobster. 

“O-okay.”

Victor snaps back up with a smile and pulls the luggage out of Yuuri’s hand. “Perfect! Now, let’s quit standing around here. I know you’re quite tired and my car awaits us.”

Victor turns around and begins marching off, probably towards wherever the parking lot must be. Yuuri stares after a few more moments before scrambling to catch up. 

This is not how Yuuri expected his day--and life--to go. 

* * *

Victor’s car is pink, and Yuuri feels like he should’ve expected something like that, but he doesn’t.

“Genuine 1976 cadillac!” Victor says when he notices Yuuri’s stare. Victor walks around him to the back and, as graceful as always, places the luggage in the trunk. Victor reaches his hand out again, for some reason. 

Victor stares at Yuuri, and Yuuri stares at Victor, and this cycle will continue unless someone decides to break it. 

“Oh!” Predictably, Victor is the one brave enough to. “Do you want to put your bag in the back, too?”

_ No no no no no no-- _ Yuuri shakes his head furiously. He’d rather have at least one familiar thing with him. 

Also, his laptop is in there. That thing is expensive, and as much as he trusts Victor to not drive like a maniac...

“Alright!” Victor says, once again all smiles. “Well, let’s get going! Yakov wants you in the skater’s dorms as soon as possible, so you can rest up for tomorrow!”

This time, Yuuri nods, and makes his way to the passenger side door. Victor, however, rushes over and beats his him to the handle. 

“Oh no, let me,” and then there's Victor Nikiforov, holding the car door open for him like they were going to prom.

_ No Yuuri, _ Yuuri thinks as he settles into the car, backpack seated on his lap.  _ We don’t have fantasies about a man sitting directly next to us, and oh my god there's no console. No seat buffer. Oh my god.  _

Victor starts the car and throws another wink his way. 

“Ready?” he says lowly, looking at Yuuri from under his lashes. 

Yuuri nods as much as he can while absolutely paralyzed by good looks. 

_ I’m not making it out of this car ride alive, am I?  _

* * *

Small talk is one of the most difficult things to participate in if one has anxiety. Constant fears of,  _ am I not responding enough, am I responding too much, is this a stupid thing to say, what am I supposed to say next, am I supposed to ask about this further or is that prying? _ It’s exhausting, Yuuri thinks, and it’s unfortunately even worse in front of the person he admires most.

Yuuri is lucky that Victor appears to be a natural chatterbox. This is entirely unexpected, as Victor has never been described that way--through the press, casual fan encounters, interviews...Yuuri noticed some time ago that Victor speaks so that he tells you nothing, but you walk away feeling like he’s laid bare for you. You notice that sort of thing when you have to avoid the press, too. 

Right now, however, Victor seems to be able to talk and talk and talk. He has asked Yuuri questions, sure, and Yuuri answers, but most people Yuuri encounters tend to give up once they realize how uninteresting he really is. Unable to contribute anything valuable. Yuuri figures Victor will be the same way after a while, but he’ll enjoy it now, while the naivety is still here. 

At the moment, Victor is telling a rather funny story about Makkachin as a puppy. 

“So I get home, yes? And none of the lights are on which isn’t unusual, but I hear all this scratching from inside the bathroom. I approach like a horror movie, like a zombie or something will jump out at me and eat my mortal flesh.”

Yuuri can’t help but smile at Victor’s theatrical retelling. This story isn’t in any article he’s read, and hearing something only people in Victor’s life appear to be privy to is making him a little lightheaded. 

In a good way. 

“I open the door, turn the light on, and Makka has managed to trap himself in the bathroom, and I guess to amuse himself he’s shredded anything even resembling paper,” This gets a giggle out of Yuuri, “The bathroom is a mess, Makka is a mess, and it’s almost midnight. I clean him up, and then while trying to clean up bathroom I fall asleep. My hair was such a mess in the morning! Tangles everywhere!”

At the next stoplight, Victor looks over at him. 

“I’m telling you, Yuuri, if you ever grow out your hair, you must keep to hair care regimens!” Victor’s expression suddenly turns mock-serious. “You must promise me this Yuuri. Must!”

Yuuri lets himself laugh, “Okay okay, I promise!”

The light turns, and Victor leans back into his seat, seemingly satisfied with the answer. 

“Good,” he says, “your hair is much too nice to get all tangled up.”

Yuuri, the smooth operator he is, chokes on his own spit. 

_ Victor just fucking complemented him? What the fuck is Yuuri’s life today?! _

Yuuri manages to cover up his stupid-induced choke with a rather convincing throat clearing. 

“Ah, oh, well, um,”  _ say something! _ “That was a really funny story!”  _ Yes, good,  _ “My, uh, dog did basically the same thing when he was a puppy.”  _ Goddammit.  _

_ Did I really just tell Victor about the dog that’s named after him?! Oh boy, well, maybe he won’t ask about it... _

In the midst of Yuuri’s--rather continuous--panic, Victor let out the most delighted gasp he had ever heard. Yuuri looks over to see Victor grinning widely, his eyes sparkling in the afternoon light. He looks as if all of his dreams had been realized in that one moment. 

“You have a dog, too? Ah, I want to hear about Yuuri’s dog! What’s his name?”

“...Vicchan.”

“Vicchan? Hm, what is that short for?”

“Oh uh, nothing. It’s just Vicchan.”

Victor hummed. “I see. Where’d you get the name idea?”

_ Jesus, _ “I don’t know. No comment.”

“No comment?” 

Although Yuuri was no longer looking at Victor--you can only look at the sun so long, after all--he could hear a dip in his voice. Like he was disappointed? How odd. 

Yuuri tried not to think about what that might mean. He just hummed in agreement before falling silent once again. 

There were a few beats of quiet before Victor picked up once again, asking more in-depth questions. What’s your home like, who are your family, your friends...And Yuuri answered as modestly as he could. It was just difficult to not choke on your own tongue in front of your idol. 

Who also happens to be the most attractive person you’ve ever seen. 

All good things must come to an end however, as Yuuri is very much aware. They eventually pull up to a private apartment block where some skaters decide to room. Close to the rink, dance studios, with good facilities, and most importantly, good wifi. It won’t be a bad place to live, Yuuri thinks. 

Victor once again rushes to the other side of the car to let Yuuri out, but this time extends his hand upon opening the door. 

_ Oh my god _ , Yuuri thinks,  _ he’s trying to help me out like a fairytale princess exiting a carriage.  _

Well, it would be prince in this case, but the analogy still stands. 

Yuuri is about to refuse, flap his hands, insist it isn’t necessary--because it’s  _ not _ \--but then he looks up. 

They lock eyes, and Yuuri finds himself staring into the same gaze he’s dreamed about for years. Victor looks so achingly handsome in his long dark coat and leather gloves, bowed at the waist slightly to reach Yuuri, and you know what? Fuck it.

If Victor Nikiforov wants to help him out of a car, Yuuri’s going to let him. 

Victor’s hand is as warm and inviting as Yuuri remembers from the airport. Victor carefully brings him onto the curb, and Yuuri assumed he’d let go once the job was done. 

_ Nope.  _

Victor continues holding his hand as Yuuri slips his backpack over one shoulder, over to the trunk to get the luggage--which Victor also drags--and up into the dorm building. 

Yuuri knows his face is on fire, and he glances over to see Victor’s ears red. He can’t see Victor’s eyes from this angle; his hair is in the way. Regardless, Yuuri again assumes the flush is from the biting early spring air and nothing more. 

“Oh, Yuuri,” Victor says, “who are you assigned to room with?”

Yuuri stutters before stopping to desperately dig through his bag.

_ Maybe I should’ve gotten this out before I started mooning over Victor...C’mon, c’mon...Ah! _

Yuuri finally manages to locate the needed papers, all without letting go of Victor’s hand. If Victor isn’t making any move to let go, Yuuri won’t either. He’s cherishing this. 

“Um, Yuri Plistestky.” Ah, right. Yuuri had heard the rumors of the Russian Punk; young, but incredibly difficult to deal with. Unpleasant. Rude. Hooray. 

Victor must have noticed something on Yuuri’s face, because he laughs before responding. 

“I can tell by your expression, you’ve heard all the talk about him? Really, he’s not a bad kid at all. Very good skater too! He’s just,” Victor sighs, “he’s 14, you know? Pent up angst, I think.”

“Ah,” Yuuri says, “I see.” He didn’t really see. 

“I was pretty bad when I was younger too!” Victor continues. “Yakov had this anti-balding hair treatment stuff I once replaced with blue dye. What little hair he had left on top was blue for at least a week! Have you had any rebellious stages?”

Yuuri laughs a bit at the image before replying. “Rebellious stages?”

“Yes! Like, graffiti, sneaking out,” Victor side-eyes him for the next one, all mischievous,  “make-outs in broom closets?”

In the most controlled and dignified way he can, Yuuri squeaks. 

“No no no! Nothing like that, nothing at all really.” He smiles ruefully, “I suppose I’m boring, huh?”

Victor gasps for the second time that day, but now it’s more scandalized than delighted. 

“Don’t be silly, Yuuri! I’ve enjoyed talking to you, and I must say I’m sad that it’s come to an end.”

Victor is right. They’ve arrived at the apartment door. End of the line. 

“Well, ah, thank you.” Yuuri gazes down at their hands, and pulls his back. He’s got to sever contact to say what he’s about to; it’s too much. “I’ve enjoyed talking to you too, Victor.” 

Victor held his free hand to his chest and oh, that smile could light up New York City. 

“Yuuri! I’m so touched. Ah, here’s your luggage. You’ve got a copy of the keys?”

Yuuri holds them up in response. 

“Good, good!” Victor says, clapping his hands a few times. “Well, I should let you get inside. It’s later into the evening now, and you’ve had a long flight. You must be rested for tomorrow. You know the time?”

“The rink at 7am,” Yuuri recites. He’d spent hours with all the instructions stuck into his head, involuntarily repeating it until his mind felt stale with them. “I have it.”

“Right good.” Victor lets out a long breath. ”I should let you go.” His voice has gone softer, and in response, Yuuri sweetens his too. 

“Yeah.”

Neither move. Yuuri has his keys in his hand, and Victor isn’t attached to him or his stuff anymore, so why isn’t he leaving? Why is he staring at Yuuri like that? 

Yuuri clears his throat. 

“Right, well, goodnight.”

Victor jumps, clearly a little startled by Yuuri’s voice. Once again, odd. 

“Oh, yes yes! Goodnight Yuuri. See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Yuuri replies, voice still soft, “you too.” 

Yuuri turns and puts his keys in the door, listening to Victor walking down the hall, and he really is about to turn those keys before the footsteps stop and Victor calls out for him again.

“Ah, Yuuri, one more question.”

Yuuri turns to see Victor with hands in his pockets, very lightly rocking back and forth on his heels, looking everywhere but at Yuuri. Honestly, this is something Yuuri would expect himself to do, not 4-time World Champion/4-time Grand Prix Final winner/International Playboy Victor Nikiforov. 

But it’s been one hell of a day. Yuuri shoves the observation away. 

“Yes, Victor?”

Now, Victor looks straight at Yuuri, and although it’s hard to tell from a few feet away, he seems to take a deep breath. 

“Do you have a lover?”

Yuuri jumps about three feet in the air, knuckles scraping against his keys. 

“I, what? N-no...”  _ What kind of question is that? Why?! _

Victor’s face immediately breaks into that lovely grin Yuuri has gotten used to over the last hour and a half. 

“Okay! See you tomorrow, Yuuuuri!” Victor drags out his name in a way that has Yuuri breathing shaky and practically skips to the elevators. Yuuri stares a few more moments before finally--finally!--opening the door. 

Wow, okay. Yuuri feels like he’s in a state of disbelief that transcends anything he’s ever felt before. He’s going to need a lot of time to think over this one. 

He drags his things into a small apartment, one that reminded him of what he and Phichit had shared in Detroit. 

Talking about things he did with Phichit in the past tense is, while technically true, feeling a little not-right on his mind’s tongue, so Yuuri goes back to looking around. He can hear muffled noises from one room, sounding like a video game. And then a loud curse. 

It’s in Russian, and his Russian may not be amazing, but it’s just something you instinctually know. Cursing is the one true universal language. 

Yuuri yelps in surprise, and the room quiets down. The door opens to reveal Yuri Plisestky in casual jeans and what looks like a plain t-shirt hidden under a black hoodie. 

“Oh,” he says, thankfully in English, “you finally got here.”

“Says” is the wrong way to put it, Yuuri thinks. It’s more like grouses. Or groans. Something with a gr- in the beginning. 

“Ah, well, yes.” Yuuri bows in greeting. “My name is Yuuri Katsuki. I’ll be your roommate from now on. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, yeah. There's a room down the hall to put your crap in. Try not to bother me too much, okay?”

“Er, uh, alright-”

“Oh!” Yuri exclaims as he’s turning back into his room, “If Victor asks you out, please say no. It’ll be annoying otherwise.”

Yuuri stares at the kid before barking out a genuine and vaguely self-deprecating before responding. He has to, because what a ridiculous thing to say, right?

“Why, why would Victor Nikiforov ask me out? Ever? That’s weird to say.”

Yuri is the one staring now and he’s dropped his scowl. It’s surprise on his face, like he wasn’t expecting the answer Yuuri gave him. A completely reasonable answer, if you asked Yuuri. 

“Oh boy,” Yuri groans. “This is going to be annoying no matter what.”

With that he slams his door and the apartment becomes silent again. The video game starts up once more. 

_ What a warm welcome.  _

Yuuri huffs and drags his things to the room indicated to him. 

A bed, a window, a desk, four walls. That’ll work. 

He sets his things down and, as he readies to turn in early, he goes over everything that happened today as calmly as he can. 

_ I arrive. Victor Nikiforov picks me up at the airport instead of a regular taxi driver or something. He must be busy, why would he do that? He carries one of my things, he drives me here, and he seems genuinely interested in my answers to questions.  _

_ Again, why? _

_ We get here, he basically holds my hand to lead me out of the car and into the building. He asks me a weird question and then my roommate seems to be kind of an asshole.  _

Yuuri feels sort of bad for calling a kid an asshole, but he tries to take Phichit’s advice about age being a number in these matters. 

_ Anyone can be an asshole, Yuuri. Anyone. Even babies, Yuuri. Babies. _ Phichit said it in this really mystically wise way too, like he was imparting the secrets of life to Yuuri. 

Phichit is such a great friend. 

Yuuri takes off his glasses and settles into bed. He thinks about all the things he’ll have to do in the coming days. All the terrifying, anxiety-inducing, vomiting-spit-you’re-so-nervous things, but before it gets too far, he thinks about his family. 

His family, who say they’re so proud of him, who he works for everyday to prove that they made the right choice sending him overseas. 

Vicchan, bravely waiting for him back home. Yuuri sniffs at the thought of him, but manages not to cry.. 

Celestino and Phichit, cheering him on from America. The people who helped him get where he is now. 

Now. 

Vicchan’s namesake, Victor. Victor has got to be the most polite, sweet, vibrant, expressive person Yuuri has ever met. As much as it doesn’t help his embarrassing dating fantasies, he can feel warmth in his cheeks and butterflies in his stomach thinking about Victor’s hand in his. 

Victor’s patient questions.

Victor’s kind gaze.

Victor’s welcome and promise to see Yuuri at the rink tomorrow. 

Victor. 

Yuuri lets a giddy smile take over his face. His heart is beating so fast he’s almost afraid it’ll explode. 

This is scary, but with thoughts of Victor awaiting him, he thinks it could be good. 

Yeah. This could be good. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how was that? Hopefully everything you'd dreamed and more. I wrote and edited this while watching episodes of MST3K so I pray it's not terribly delirious. 
> 
> If ao3 screwed up any formatting, please let me know.
> 
> Finally, thank you so much for your support thus far. It means much more to me than I could ever say. 
> 
> Until next time!


	3. It's Not a Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Yuuri's first day at the rink.

The morning brought tragically healthy food and more chaos. 

Yuuri hadn’t eaten in around 12 hours; he’s lucky Yuri keeps a well-stocked fridge. 

However, he’s unlucky about the fact that this kid has his face stuck in an almost permanent scowl. He’s vaguely civil, Yuuri supposes, but certainly not pleasant. 

“Alright, alright,” Yuri huffed, toeing his shoes on, “I’m supposed to show you to the rink since you don’t know where you’re going. You better learn fast; don’t expect me to keep dragging you around places.”

Yuuri sighs but otherwise doesn’t respond. Despite having spent barely anytime with Yuri, he caught on pretty quickly that responding provokes the kid further. 

They manage to make their way outside to find something--er, someone--Yuuri wasn’t expecting to see.

Victor is leaning against the building, browsing something on his phone. The Sun has already risen but the pinks and oranges remain in the sky, illuminating Victor’s silhouette so romantically Yuuri feels his breath catch. He’s about to say something when--

“What the fuck are you doing here, old man?” Yuri beats him to it. 

Victor turns his head, smiling, and pockets his phone. 

“Good morning, Yuuri! Did you sleep well?”

Yuuri stutters at the same time Yuri says, “What the hell do you care?”

Victor widens his eyes before chuckling. 

“Oh my. I should’ve thought about how confusing this would be. Someone’s going to have to have a nickname.”

Victor looks between the two of them rather seriously, before lighting up again.

“I know!” He exclaims, pointing at the youngest Yuri. “From now on, I dub you ‘Yurio’!”

This isn’t going to end well, Yuuri already knows. He cautiously turns his head to see Yuri--Yurio--absolutely fuming. Red face, smoke out of his ears, the whole shebang. Impressive. 

“What the fuck?! Why doesn’t he get a nickname, I was here first!”

“Ah ah ah,” Victor wags his index finger back and forth, “Yuuri is older. So he gets to keep his name.”

Victor winks at Yuuri, giving him a little conspiratory smirk. 

Yuuri restrains himself from fainting.

“God, that’s such bullshit!” Yurio yelled. “You never answered my question anyway! What are you doing here?”

While Yuuri was stuck in surprise at the power of Yurio’s lungs, Victor seemed to falter.

“Ah well, I thought perhaps you might leave early this morning, so I came to show Yuuri the way, just in case!” 

Yurio’s face softened into confusion “What? I always leave at this time-”

“Anyway, Yuuri!” Victor interrupted. Yuuri was interested in what Yurio was about to say, but he’s  _ far _ more interested in the sudden weight of Victor’s arm around his shoulder. “Speaking of never answering questions, you slept well, yes?”

“Oh! Uh, yes, I think, thank you.” Yuuri replied. Well, stuttered, but he did still reply. In a moment of bravery, Yuuri asks if Victor slept well too.

Yuuri is rewarded with a wide grin from Victor and a scoff from Yurio.

“Whatever,” the latter says, “I’m going on without you two. You’re fucking gross.”

Yurio stomped off onto the sidewalk, walking towards the rink. Yuuri feels a bit awkward--he was just called “gross” for seemingly no reason--but Victor isn’t bothered. 

“Very well, Yuuri, thank you!” He says. “And don’t worry about little Yurio. He’s normally grumpy, but especially in the morning.” Victor starts walking them towards the rink as well. 

They don’t talk much on the way to practice. Yuuri doesn’t feel comfortable enough yet to initiate conversation with Victor, and the anxiousness of meeting his new coach and rinkmates already make him feel isolated. 

Victor himself seems to be just enjoying the morning. The way Victor’s arm is curled around his shoulder, Yuuri’s hand continuously brushes up against his side. It’s sort of dizzying, Yuuri thinks. He’s so close to Victor, half of him wrapped in the warmth of his coat and body heat. It’s a position Yuuri’s dreamed of but never thought he would reach. 

His dreams about Victor are probably going to get weirdly detailed now. 

Not that he has any recurring dreams about Victor. 

(He totally does. The one that takes place in China is his favorite. Victor kisses him in front of everyone. It’s shamefully possessive, considering they’ve never met before now.)

Yuuri chances a glance at Victor’s profile. Victor is contentedly looking straight ahead, a small smile playing on his lips. Yuuri is now at an angle where he can see Victor’s eyes; they’re soft and bright, nothing like his posters. 

Yuuri is so grateful to see this side of him. 

_ Perhaps I’ll be lucky enough to see more... _

* * *

As Yuuri tends to live his life in contradictions, it’s only fitting that meeting Yakov Feltsman was not as scary yet  _ just _ as scary as he had imagined.

Yakov is gruff with a an expression range of “Unimpressed” to “I find this acceptable for now.” It’s far different from Celestino’s emotional personableness, but Yuuri still feels a fire inside of him to rise to the challenges Yakov sets. 

Yuuri can see the disapproval in the coach’s face as he lists off the truly laughable number of quads he can do. 

“The toe loop, and...I can land the salchow in practice but never during competition...” Yuuri trails off, entirely humiliated by having to admit this in front of all these strangers. In front of the far more talented people he’ll be sharing the ice with. In front of Victor. 

Yakov, however, doesn’t berate him, doesn’t laugh him out of the rink. Doesn’t send him packing now, as Yuuri had thought he would.

Yakov hums. “We’re going to have to fix that, boy. Warm up; then I want to see all your jumps up to triples, the quad toe, and the quad salchow. Tell me when you’re ready to show me, I’ve got to help another skater now.” 

As Yakov walks away, the tension in Yuuri’s shoulders begins to drop. He manages to get a deep breath out before Yurio is on him.

“Are you kidding me?” He scoffs. “You can barely do two quads? Ha! I was right, you really should’ve gotten the dumbass nickname; You need to step the hell up if you ever wanna be on any professional level.”

Yuuri can only stare stupidly with his jaw unhinged. Yurio hadn’t been the best roommate, not doubt, but he’d never been downright mean like this before. Before Yuuri can say anything in turn, Victor leaps to his rescue. 

“Yurio! How can you be so mean to Yuuri? Shoo, leave us alone.” Victor makes a dismissive motion with his hand, then turns to face Yuuri. “But I am curious, Yuuri; why so few jumps? You clearly have the skills to make it happen.”

_ Oh god. Victor basically just said he’s seen my skating. This is the best and worst day of my life.  _

“Uh,” Yuuri starts, before realizing he has nothing to say. He just averts his eyes and shakes his head.

Victor looks confused for a moment before nodding. 

“Okay. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.” He shifts from his weight from one foot to another. “How about we warm up together?”

* * *

The rest of the day passes similarly; Yuuri presents his jumps to Yakov, who corrects his techniques. Yurio doesn’t bother him the rest of practice, thankfully, save for a few vicariously angered looks when Yuuri falls or steps out of his jumps. Yuuri finds his other rinkmates much more personable.

There's Victor, of course, who continuously interacts with him through practice. Yuuri is both overjoyed and a bit confused by this; Victor doesn’t seem bored of him at all, and even appears to seek him out. Yuuri’s going to have to ask Phichit what he thinks about it on their skype call tonight.

And then Mila, tall with fiery red hair cut into a bob. She’s young, only 17, but has an air of maturity Yuuri likes. Mila is someone everyone would like to be friends with; funny, strong, friendly, open. Yuuri hopes they can be friends, or at least friendly acquaintances.

Lastly, Georgi, who is just as tall and broad as Victor. Georgi talked a lot about this supposedly lovely girl he’s seeing, Anya. Apparently, she’s a leggy ice dancer with long chestnut hair, full red lips, and graceful “in a way no one else can be.” 

Yuuri learns all of this from one conversation. 

Based on the looks on the other skaters’ faces, this ranting is a frequent occurrence. Yuuri finds it a bit excessive, but it’s nice that Georgi has something--someone--he’s really passionate about. Passion goes a long way in figure skating. 

The next strangely wonderful thing, however, occurs when the practice session has ended. Yuuri’s feet and calves ache satisfyingly, although he’ll have to be careful with the bruises on his hip for a few days. 

He’s lucky tomorrow is an off day. 

Victor approaches while Yuuri packs away his skates. He’s got his hands behind his back and honestly, although Yuuri phrases it as “approaches,” it’s more like he slowly inches over.

“Ah, Yuuri,” Victor starts, “I was wondering something.”

“What’s up, Victor?” Yuuri asks, looking up from his things. Victor’s doing that thing again where he’s not really looking at Yuuri. He braces for another oddly personal question.

“I was just thinking, do you know much about the area?” Yuuri shakes his head “no.” He’s been in Russia for competition, but never had the chance to look around. To Yuuri, St. Petersburg is just as much a mystery as outer space. 

Surprisingly, Victor breaks into a smile.

“Perfect!” _ Uh. _ “Since tomorrow is an off day, and we both have time, since you don’t know your way around just yet, I could show you the city?”  _ Oh.  _

_ Oh. _

Victor keeps going, “We could go to the various shops and cafes around, the Winter Palace, and there's the lovely parks in Petergof...” 

Victor trails off and, after a moment, grabs both of Yuuri’s hands in his own.

“Come on, Yuuuuri! Be a tourist with me! I’ve lived here my whole life, you know, so I know all the best places!”

Yuuri definitely knows Victor has lived in St. Petersburg his whole life. Yuuri knows all the generic “personal” facts about Victor, but he refrains from saying this. 

Yuuri thinks over his choices. First, everything that could go wrong. He could embarrass himself. Drive Victor away. There are endless possibilities of how Yuuri could fuck this up.

However... 

He’s being offered a day with his idol, just the two of them, touring around the historic city of St. Petersburg. With the way Victor is holding his hands with a brightly hopeful look in his eyes, it feels like he’s being asked on a date.

_ Ha. As if.  _

Yuuri recalls Yurio’s words from the night before;  _ If Victor asks you out, please say no. _

Yuuri straightens his posture, determination taking over his features. Yurio has no right to tell him what to do, especially since proving how rude he is. Besides, it’s not like Victor is asking him out; he’s offering to show him around the city. Yuuri totally had people in America approach him the same way. It’s just nice to do.

“Alright,” Yuuri answers, “let’s do it. What time tomorrow?”

Victor beams, squeezes his hands and stands straight up. Yuuri swears he hears an excited intake of breath.

“Can I get you at 8am?”

That’s a little early, but Yuuri agrees anyway. It’s just more time with Victor. 

“Perfect! Oh Yuuri, you won’t regret hiring me as your tour guide!” Regret never crossed Yuuri’s mind. Also, he didn’t really plan on paying Victor for this. Yuuri figures he’s joking.

Yuuri hopes he’s joking. 

Victor’s let go of his hands to spin in a happy circle. 

“I’ll show you such a great time, Yuuri, you just wait!”

Yuuri feels his face burn at the suggestiveness of the string of words that just came out of Victor’s mouth. The way Victor is smiling at him doesn’t help, either.

_ Does this man just speak in innuendo? _

* * *

Luckily, Yurio left practice by himself. Victor said he was staying with his grandfather tonight; he also seemed too happy at the prospect of walking Yuuri to his door, completely alone.

After skyping with his family--who seem to be excited for his skating opportunities and unsubtly mischievous about the fact that Yuuri is sharing close spaces with his idol--Yuuri calls Phichit.

Although Phichit answers his questions about Detroit, it’s clear he’s buzzing with excitement to hear about Russia.

So Yuuri tells him. He leaves out Yurio--he doesn’t want Phichit worrying about him-- but he does talk of the car ride, the personal questions, the totally-not-a-date happening tomorrow. Phichit shrieks at all of this.

“Yuuri! I can’t believe it!” He shouts. “Victor Nikiforov asked you out! Well, actually I can totally believe it; no matter how much you deny it, you’re cute as hell, and Nikiforov would be missing out if he didn’t go after that ass.”

“Phichit!” Yuuri whines. “Shut up! It’s not a date, he’s just showing me around! You know, people did that when I got to Detroit too.”

“Yeah, and from what you tell me, it sounds like they were trying to ask you out, too.” Phichit sighs. “You really are a heartbreaker, Yuuri.”

Yuuri huffs.

“I am not! It’s late anyway, I should go to bed. I have somewhere to be tomorrow, Phichit Chulanont.”

Phichit accusingly points to the screen.

“You’re just running from the truth Yuuri! Victor Nikiforov totally wants you!”

“Good _ night _ Phichit.”

Phichit sighs again, this time with a touch more dramatics. 

“Fine, fine. But you better tell me about your not-date tomorrow.” Phichit perks up suddenly, “Wait! Yuuri, don’t hang up yet! I want you to say goodnight to somebody else!”

Yuuri cocks his head.

“There's somebody there with you? Have they been able to hear our conversation?!” Yuuri involuntarily does his best impression of a ripe tomato. “Phichit, goddammit!”

“No, don’t worry!” He replies, “They couldn’t here.” Phichit reaches for something next to him, off camera. 

“He misses you, Yuuri! Say goodnight!”

“ _ No _ !” Yuuri yells, and cuts the call. The last thing he hears is Phichit practically crying with laughter.

Yuuri is going to hang out with Victor tomorrow; he really didn’t need Phichit anthropomorphizing his shameful Victor Nikiforov body pillow. Yuuri is so happy he didn’t bring things like that to Russia: just a couple posters he’s had since forever. 

If their was ever a reason one of the Russian skaters would be in this apartment, he wouldn’t want them running across that thing. 

Although leaving it with Phichit opens him to unprotected teasing, he knows Phichit won’t show that to anyone. They’re friends for a reason, after all.

As Yuuri finally settles into bed, with an alarm set to 7am, he feels his heart pounding again. He can’t help his thoughts turning romantic when thinking about his time with Victor tomorrow. 

_ It’s just natural, _ Yuuri thinks,  _ to be attracted to him. Who wouldn’t be? _

Sleep comes easier that night.

 

 

 

 

(You know, a part of Yuuri wishes he had that body pillow. He could use something to clutch right now.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey, I meant to update this sooner, but stuff has gotten in the way. I had a writer's block caused by the progression of my exposure therapy, so yeah. I know a significant amount of time hasn't passed, but I'd like to say I believe this will be an anomaly. 
> 
> There's a film reference in this chapter, but it's not as specific as last time. If you've seen the film it'll be easy to catch tho. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for your comments, kudos, bookmarks, and just viewing the story! I'm so excited by it, and I wouldn't have the confidence to continue anything without you. 
> 
> Until next time!


	4. Petals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The not-date is here!

The fluttering in his stomach made it hard to sleep, but Yuuri managed still, and was right on time for Victor to pick him up. For their not-date. Yeah, that’s what we’re calling it.

Victor again held the car door open for him, and strangely enough, Yuuri was starting to get used to such behavior. He knew he shouldn’t, it wasn’t good for his faculties, but how could one help it? The man who had held his heart through a screen for the past 10 years was being so chivalrous as to carry Yuuri’s things, open doors for him, tour him through the city? Yes, Yuuri’s going to feel a bit smug about that, deep down.

He wouldn’t tell Phichit anything about this if he wasn’t sure his friend already knew. Damn him for knowing Yuuri so well.

Although Yuuri was dressed rather casually, Victor sported even nicer clothing than the day he picked Yuuri up. A lovely charcoal suit with a waistcoat and tie to match, paired with the trenchcoat Yuuri saw him wear the other day and a scarf to keep out the breeze. His gloves were back, too. Yuuri felt woefully underdressed in his casual jeans, cheap letterman jacket, old sneakers...he told Victor as much.

“Yuuri, you look just fine!” Victor encouraged. “We’re not going anywhere fancy; and that jacket is a lovely color on you.”

Yuuri felt his face warm, but decided to focus on a different part of that sentence for the moment.

“But why are you dressed fancy if we’re not going anywhere like that?” Yuuri watched Victor frown just a bit, sending him into the beginnings of panic. “Not, not that you look bad or anything! Or the way you dress is bad, because it’s not! You look good, the suit is good, I like it!”

Victor didn’t respond immediately. Just, blinked slowly. Then rapidly. Oh god.

_Did I already fuck this up? Did I make it awkward? He probably doesn’t even want me here anymore. Maybe I should say I don’t feel well, and he can turn us around, so I can spare the both of us..._

As his thoughts trailed away, Yuuri hears a sound from Victor. A sound he’d never heard him make. He looks over at him.

Victor Nikiforov is giggling. A small smile has taken over his lips, his eyes are bright, his ears red, and yes, giggling just a bit. Just enough for Yuuri to pick up on it.

“I’m glad you like it, Yuuri,” was all he said. Nothing more, nothing less.

Yuuri was too awed by Victor’s hair ruffling in the breeze as they drove down various street corners to notice that Victor never answered his question.

* * *

The St. Petersburg Botanical Garden is one of the most beautiful places Yuuri has ever had the pleasure of going to. The museum, greenhouses, open gardens, all housing both native Russian and rare and exotic flora. It was the perfect weather, too--sunshine light and air clear.

Victor certainly knows how to pick a good first stop.

The season had nearly all the flowers blooming together. Vibrant reds, deep blues, and calm purples decorated the grounds and, subsequently, the guests. Yuuri watches pink flower petals fall into Victor’s hair while they walk along. His heart skips, and it took all his might not to sigh as Victor elegantly swept the petals away.

Before meeting Victor, Yuuri never realized he would be so easy and yet so hard to make conversation with. Comforting and intimidating. Yuuri felt like he could trust Victor, despite not knowing him long.

 _Is that because he’s my idol, or something more?_ Yuuri asks himself as they stop on a bridge to look out across the river winding through the gardens.

Yuuri breathes deeply and calmly as he observed the flowers, trees, bushes, and the scarce number of people milling about. It’s Sunday, after all, and many were still in church.

Yuuri felt Victor’s presence next to him, but jumps in surprise when he felt a hand on his head. Yuuri looks up to see Victor retracting his now-gloveless hand.

“I’m sorry, Yuuri, I hadn’t meant to startle you.” Victor murmurs into the quiet air. “There were petals caught in your hair. I was removing them for you.”

“Oh.” Yuuri breathes, just as quietly. “That’s okay.”

Taking that as permission, Victor reaches forward again to clear away the flowers. Yuuri kept head turned towards Victor, observing his concentration as long fingers carded through his hair. Although Yuuri was flushed, hands gripping the edge of the bridge, and heart about ready to jump away from him, the peaceful atmosphere and repeated motion was cathartic.

Yuuri didn’t realize he’d closed his eyes until Victor mumbled that he had finished. Yuuri opened his eyes to see Victor’s trained on his. There were emotions struggling in his eyes. Yuuri was about to ask what was wrong before a bird cooed, breaking the trance. They both jumped away, and Victor put his glove back on.

“Well, there we go!” He beams, a touch too cheerful. “Let’s continue on, yes? So much more to see!”

Victor turned and began leisurely walking away. Yuuri stayed rooted for a few more moments before following.

“Yeah. Okay.”

* * *

Victor was right, he did know the best cafes in the city. Or perhaps he knew one good one and that’s where they were. For now though, Yuuri believed the former.

Even if it was against his diet, coffee and little cakes were exactly what he needed during such an emotional time in his life. Besides, Victor seemed to be a bit more lax about the things he ate on off-days.

“I always allow myself one small sweet on an off-day,” he had told Yuuri when they arrived to the cafe. “It keeps the spirits up, in my experience.”

Yuuri certainly couldn’t deny that.

It was here, eating delicious food and sipping creamy coffee that Victor finally convinced Yuuri to show him pictures of Vicchan.

“Oh!” Victor practically squeals, “He looks like a tiny Makkachin! How adorable!”

Victor had moved his chair around closer to Yuuri’s side of the table. There was no way Yuuri was going to hand over his phone and let Victor scroll; too many possibilities of life-ending embarrassment.

Victor seemed very interested in the pictures Yuuri offered up; he asked the context of each, made little comments, told corresponding stories about Makkachin...It’s nice, Yuuri thinks, to spend time with someone who cares just as much about dogs. And the same type of dog.

Victor currently seems to believe it was a coincidence that they owned the same breed. Yuuri wants to keep it that way.

The rest of the day went similarly. Victor showed him shops, boutiques, grocery stores; basically, the essentials.

Yuuri did ask Victor why boutiques were considered essentials, but all that got him was an offended gasp and a small lecture on the fashion industry. Yuuri doesn’t care much for expensive clothes, but he was still happy to listen.

Victor walked him to his door in the evening, after they went to a dinner Victor insisted on paying for, just like the sweet cakes at the cafe. They were smiling, talking, and laughing. Yuuri felt contentment settle in his chest.

_This feels good. This feels really, really good._

Even Yurio’s disapproving glare when Yuuri stepped through the door couldn’t dampen his good mood. He did think he heard Yurio say “ _Idiots,_ ” but that could be his imagination.

Yuuri actually found it sort of funny, the way Yurio looked as if he should be wearing his hair in curlers and sitting in an armchair, angrily reading a book under a lamp. Yuuri managed to keep his laughing to himself until he reached his bedroom.

Yuuri smiled as he leaned against his closed door. The day was a good. Better than good. Amazing, incredible, _perfect_. Yuuri didn’t know what he had expected out of today, but whatever it was, reality far exceeded it.

If this is how he’s going to feel every time they talk, he can’t wait to see Victor at the rink tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little short, a little late. I meant to have this out yesterday, but my friend and I finished playing Life is Strange together yesterday and my soul sorta left my body for about 24 hours. Sorry about that. 
> 
> I also had a lot of trouble writing this chapter. I hope it doesn't seem off or rushed.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and supporting this story! Your presence means a lot to me.
> 
> Until next time!


	5. Vicchan & Ballet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh, two new characters are here...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> darg borking

It takes Yuuri another week to meet two incredibly important figures in his life in Russia. Fortunately or unfortunately, on the same day.

Victor had texted one morning a week after their trip to the gardens-- _no_ Phichit, it was not a date, _yes_ Phichit, we’ve exchanged numbers, _no Phichit_ , I’m not labeling him in my phone as “ice daddy”--that he was running a bit late, and to just...come by.

Yuuri Katsuki now has Victor Nikiforov’s address, and he feels like he’s been trusted with government secrets.

Long story short, Yuuri is now standing in front of the apartment door that is supposedly Victor’s. A very unfair voice in the back of his head suggests that Victor gave him the wrong address as a prank, and the Russian team is lying in wait to jump out and laugh at him.

He tells the voice it’ll shut up if it knows what’s good for it.

Yuuri takes a deep breath, clutching his phone in his now-lightly-sweaty hand, and bravely reaches out to ring the doorbell. The once quiet apartment erupts into muffled sound; dog barks, scrambling steps, something clearly heavy dropping on the ground--Yuuri winces at that--and a voice he recognizes as Victor shouting out _hold on!_

The door practically rips open to reveal Victor, huffing slightly, and in more of a disarray than Yuuri has ever seen him.

That is to say, he’s still unfairly beautiful.

Before either can say a single thing, Yuuri sees--and feels--a rush of brown tackle him to the solid hallway floor.

 _Oh,_ Yuuri thinks when the wind comes back to him. _Makkachin._

The newly-identified fluffball keeps Yuuri pinned to ground, sounding happy grunts and making it his mission to cover Yuuri’s _entire_ face in slobber.

Yuuri can hear Victor yelling over him for Makkachin _to stand down_ , _bad boy_ , _don’t do that to guests_ , trying to pull the dog back, but all Yuuri can think to do is wrap his arms around Makkachin and cuddle closer.

Victor quiets down, and Yuuri sees his frantic movements settle out of the corner of his eye.

Victor breathes a quiet _oh._

Yuuri pays him no mind.

_I wish you were Vicchan._

* * *

Eventually, they have to go, and lying on the chilled frieze carpet becomes awkward and uncomfortable for all parties.

Yuuri can feel Victor’s eyes on him when he lowers to pat Makkachin goodbye. He hunches his shoulders and ignores it.

They’re quiet as Victor locks the door. Yuuri feels a bit embarrassed that he had just let himself go like that; he misses his own dog, yeah, but he can’t go around hogging other people’s.

The shadow on Victor’s face is unreadable.

They walk down the hall before anyone speaks.

“You miss Vicchan a lot, don’t you?”

_It’s Victor. It’s always Victor._

There's no point in denying it now, so as much as it pains Yuuri to show so much of himself so fast, he nods.

“Yeah. I do.”

There are a few beats of silence before Victor speaks again.

“Is there any way I could help?”

Yuuri freezes at the lobby door to whip his head around to Victor.

There's no hint he’s joking; Victor’s eyes are steeled as they bore into Yuuri’s. It’s a bit intimidating, but Yuuri drops his shoulders a bit all the same. He continues walking, and hears Victor continue behind him.

“That’s-that’s really nice Victor, but I don’t know how you would.”

Victor speeds up to walk beside Yuuri. He dips his head down, presumably to catch his eye, but Yuuri keeps his head down and studies the weeds growing in the sidewalk cracks. Dandelions sprouting from the confines of rough concrete is beautifully calming in an unexpected way. He’s going to have to do this more often.

Victor is undeterred.

“There's paperwork, Yuuri. Sometimes I bring Makkachin to competitions, so I know that sort of thing quite well. I could help you with it, really, I could! You just have to ask.”

Oddly enough, Victor sounds as if he’s pleading. Like he’s desperate for Yuuri to do this.

Yuuri really doesn’t understand him sometimes.

Or most of the times.

“Really, Victor, I’m okay,” Yuuri chances a look up, and sees Victor’s almost _dejected_ look.

Yuuri decides he doesn’t like Victor looking so sad.

“It’s okay, really. Besides, Vicchan is with my family! He’s safe he’s happy, I’m not even home often!”

“But you haven’t seen him in years, right? Doesn’t he miss you?”

Yuuri sighs.

“Maybe, but would it really be worth it to uproot him? And then he spends most of the day alone? Does my complex even allow pets?”

“I know for a fact Yurio keeps a cat in there.”

“But I’ve never seen a cat? And I live there?”

“How often do you see Yurio?”

“...Fair.”

It’s Victor’s turn to sigh as he opens the rink door for Yuuri.

“I’m just saying--”

“Katsuki! Vitya!” Yakov’s shouts cut Victor off. “You’re 12 minutes late! Get to warming up!”

Yuuri tenses before bowing low.

“I’m so sorry, Coach Feltsman! It won’t happen again! I’ll stretch now!”

“Yuuri, wait--”

He strides off before Victor can catch him. He feels those lovely eyes on him again.

Yuuri doesn’t turn around this time.

* * *

Yuuri is practicing his spins when the rink goes silent. He’s too caught up in his own head to notice clacking heels, sharp Russian, and a compressive atmosphere until Yakov calls him over.

He’s about to ask for opinions on the spins, but dagger-like eyes clutch him first.

She’s tall, hair in a tight bun, with immaculate designer clothing and the most severe features Yuuri has ever bore witness to.

He knows exactly who this is. Yuuri has seen enough photographs in Minako’s office-studio-home to recognize her anywhere.

 _The Madame Lilia Baranovskaya_.

“Well? Come here, Yuuri Katsuki.”

It’s Lilia speaking now. Yuuri feels the oppressive silence of the rink as much as he hears it. Curious eyes crawl over him. They feel menacing, judging. Yuuri bites his lip and slinks forward cautiously.

Lilia squints at him before snatching his face in one perfectly manicured hand. Yuuri is too shocked to jerk back.

“Good bone structure.” She says. “Hm. That Minako...”

Yuuri is released after a few bone-chilling moments of scrutiny. He stammers out what he thinks is a “thank you,” but it may be just as garbled as his thoughts.

Lilia nods at Yakov.

“Yes. I will take him.” She turns back to Yuuri. “I now expect you to report to my studio every afternoon after your skating practice. You will present to me your skills, and I will help you mold them further.” She’s not smiling, but her chin ticks up a smidge. “I will see you tomorrow, Yuuri Katsuki.”

Lilia turns elegantly on her heels and walks out the way she came. Yuuri stares dumbfounded at the doors; he’s sure everyone has a similar expression towards him.

Yakov shouts for them to _get back to work, who told you you could stop?!_ , but it’s Mila sliding up beside him that pulls Yuuri out of his reverie.

“Holy shit,” she gawps, “The Madame came out to see you. Nice work, man, and good luck.”

“A-ah. Thanks.”

Yuuri turns to look for Victor, who appears just as confused as everyone else. He shrugs when they meet eyes. No one else is very helpful either; they’ve gotten back to their training, as Yuuri should his.

As Yuuri skates back onto the ice to present another full spin, he couldn’t help but think he’s either done something _really_ good or _really_ bad.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *timmy's dad voice* and this is where I'd put my regular updating schedule...iF I hAd OnE 
> 
> I'm actually out of town right now, so my timing for uploads is weird for this? And I kinda wrote it all in one sitting bc I was really excited to get it out there. It's been looked over, but yeah. I'm in a hurry lately. 
> 
> Thank you all again for being so encouraging! You really keep me going, and I owe any confidence I have to you. Thanks for your continued support.
> 
> As always, until next time!


	6. Rollercoaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3 weeks later...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the late-ish update and my rushing. The last two chapters felt off to me because I was letting what is essentially imaginary pressure get to me. I was more excited to get it out than I was to edit. I had to take a week to calm down and remind myself that, you know, I should be having fun, not stressing. 
> 
> This one is longer than the last two, and edited; I hope you enjoy it.

It took another three weeks before Vicchan, among other things, came up again. 

Those three weeks were mostly spent sleeping, eating unfortunately healthy meals, skating, and training under Madame Lilia. Yuuri decided early on he liked her; although Lilia was absolutely brutal in both practice sessions and her words, she pushes and pushes and  _ pushes _ in all the right ways, leaving Yuuri’s calves satisfyingly sore at the end of each day. 

He’s gotten so used to the stagnancy of Celestino’s protectiveness; it’s refreshing to feel he’s truly being pushed towards  _ something _ . 

When Yuuri isn’t doing all that, he’s interacting with rinkmates. A month in Russia has Yuuri used to the quirks of each member, even if he’s not fully comfortable with them just yet. 

Mila teases Yurio mercifully, and although Yurio puts up a fuss, their dynamic is so...brother and sister. It’s interesting, and--dare he say it--sort of cute. 

Georgi is as love struck as he was on Yuuri’s first day. He simultaneously entertains and annoys his fellow skaters with tales of his dear Anya. Yurio says he gives them another six months, tops. Victor puts a bet in for the end of this year. Mila records the bets and enters her own of three months. Yuuri doesn’t participate, but still guiltily listens in. 

Victor, of course, is as wonderful as ever. Their discussion about Vicchan hasn't come up since that first time. He’s taken Yuuri around more of the city; landmarks, shops, restaurants. Victor took Yuuri into a boutique once, too, but left pouting at Yuuri’s refusal to be gifted a $100 winter coat. 

The part of Yuuri that grew up in a family business is horrified at the idea, but the other, much more devious part of him is deeply satisfied that Victor was willing to spend so much money on him. 

Yuuri tries to block out that devious part of himself because he knows well and good it’ll only lead to trouble, but, well, he’s human. He can fantasize all he wants. 

And fantasize Yuuri does. The amount of time that Victor has blessed him with his presence is really not helping Yuuri’s attraction. Phichit and Mari have smug, knowing smiles on their faces when he calls them. He knows they can see the flush on his face, the sparkle in his eyes; hear the breathlessness in his voice when he talks about the beautiful quad flip he saw Victor do today, the cafe sweets Victor has bought for him, the outings to enchanting castles in the city, or just Victor as a whole. 

What Yuuri rarely speaks of is the soft touches Victor will give him; an arm around his shoulder, a hand in his to tug along, those fingers carding through his hair back at the gardens...it’s selfish, Yuuri knows, but he wants those moments to be little gifts for himself. He doesn’t want to share Victor’s affectionate nature, his heart-shaped smile and glowing eyes. 

The way Victor’s hair shifts in the wind, his breathless giggles and hearty laughs, his low voice, quiet enough that Yuuri can pretend, even momentarily, that Victor’s words and attention are only for him. 

_ I’m nothing special _ , Yuuri says to himself.  _ He’s probably done this before. _ Unfortunately, the thought never relaxes his shoulders or tunes out his heartbeat. It doesn’t stop the dizziness he feels when Victor steps almost  _ too close _ , so much so that he can feel the heat coming from his torso. Yuuri constantly tries to resist the urge to lean in, rest his head on those broad shoulders, get too attached or, really, attached at all. 

_ It’ll wear off once I know St. Petersburg better. It will. Don’t get used to it.  _

The longest road is from the mind to the heart, and Yuuri fears the journey isn’t even halfway made. 

And that could become a problem. 

* * *

For the first time, Victor is in Yuuri’s room.

That’s a sentence Yuuri never thought would be reality, but here he is. 

Yuuri had the good presence of mind before leaving for the rink that morning to put away the two framed posters he has in there. That would be difficult to explain on a level he’s sure he’ll never be able to handle. 

Yuuri had been bugged by Phichit, Yuuko, and his family from all ends to finally introduce them to Victor. 

(Phichit keeps teasing him with questions like  _ when will you bring your boyfriend home to meet me? _ Yuuri shoots back that Phichit’s lucky he’s on the other side of the world.

Yuuri thinks Yuuko would make those jokes, too, if she wasn’t too shellshocked just at the idea of someone she knows being close to Victor Nikiforov.)

“You can back out if you want to.” Yuuri tells Victor for the umpteenth time. “I really can just tell them you’re not up to it or something. You can go rest, I don’t want to bother you with this.”

“But Yuuri!” Victor drapes himself over Yuuri while the latter pulls up Skype.  _ Ah, that’s another thing to try not to get used to. Victor’s hugs.  _ “Of course I want to talk to them! They’re important to you, aren’t they? I’d like to get to know the people you love.” 

Victor always says these things like they’re dating. Like he’s desperate to make a good first impression, so Yuuri’s loved ones will give him their blessing or something. It leaves Yuuri’s breath quivering.

“Okay. If you’re really sure. I usually catch Phichit first, so that’s what we’ll do. Is that alright?”

Victor pulls back and shifts where he sits next to Yuuri on the bed, giving him a content smile. 

“I’m ready when you are. Wherever you go I’ll follow, Yuuri. If you want me to, that is.”

Victor adds that last sentence with less surety than the other two, but Yuuri is much too caught up in that second one. 

_ Wherever you go I’ll follow, Yuuri.  _

_ Jesus Christ.  _

Right on time, Phichit’s call tone fills the otherwise quiet room. Yuuri has to take a deep breath before clicking “accept.”

“Yuuri! Great to see your lovely face! And oh, there’s Victor Nikiforov himself.” Phichit greets. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure if Yuuri was really gonna bring you on. He’s shy that way, you know?”

Two seconds into this call and Yuuri is already embarrassed. 

“ _ Phichit, _ ” he hisses, even when out of the corner of his eyes he sees Victor looking rather seriously at Phichit. 

_ This is already getting out of control. _

Phichit lifts his palms in a placating gesture. “Okay, okay. Sorry babe. Anyway, I’m Phichit Chulanont, it’s great to meet you, Victor.”

_ Babe? _ Yuuri asks himself.  _ That’s not a nickname Phichit uses very often. Eh, whatever. _

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Yuuri notes Victor’s sudden tense posture. But he doesn’t have time to really think about it before Victor responds. 

“Hello, Phichit. It’s very nice to meet you too. Yuuri speaks well of you.” Yuuri also notes, more consciously, that Victor is being much more formal than he normally would be. 

_ Maybe he’s trying to be polite? Or I’ve fallen into Bizarro World tonight... _

“Oh, I’m glad. Yuuri speaks highly of you too.”  _ Oh my god. _ “Anyway, you two, how’s practice? Because over here, Ciao Ciao has been seriously pushing these juniors--”

They let Phichit dissolve into a story about Celestino and the younger skaters back in Detroit. While Yuuri listens, he takes the time to study Victor’s face. What he finds is that something is decidedly _off._

Victor isn’t as relaxed as he normally is. The easy posture and expressions are reigned back to be a straight spine and conservative smiles. 

It’s a combination of weird, fascinating, and vaguely terrifying. 

“So, how about you guys?” Phichit finishes. “Anything interesting going on lately?” 

“Oh, well,” Yuuri starts, “I’ve been landing that quad salchow more! Coach Feltsman’s notes have been really helpful.” 

“Yes indeed!” Victor interjects. “It’s wonderful to see your skating grow, Yuuri. I quite enjoy watching you.” 

If Yuuri didn’t know better, he’d think Victor was flirting. That tone seemed _really close_ to purring. 

_I need to stop projecting._  

“You-I-Uh-um, th-thanks! You too!”

_ You too?! Really?! _

Apparently, that’s the right response, because it has Victor genuinely lighting up beside him. 

“Aw, well, thank you Yuuri. It means very much to me.”

Yuuri hears the click of a shutter going off, and he jerks his head back to the monitor.

Judging by the look on Phichit’s face, he just took a screenshot of them. 

“Phichit! Why!” Yuuri exclaims. 

Phichit giggles. “Just because.” 

Yuuri can no longer argue. Only sigh.

* * *

The rest of the call with Phichit is just like that. Teasing, talking, and a bit tense.

Next, Yuuko and the family. Nishigori may be there, but Yuuri isn’t completely counting on it. He’ll probably be at home taking care of the triplets. He’ll chat with the entire Nishigori family later.

“Yuuri!” His mother exclaims. “Hi again, sweetie.”

The rest of the family says their hellos and, in Vicchan’s case, barks. Yuuri has to smile at his beloved dog. He notices Yuuko is missing, but figures she’s just running late. 

“I see you’ve got a friend with you, Yuuri. Why don’t you introduce us?” Toshiya implores. Both his parents have their usual relaxed smiles. Mari looks as yankee as ever. She scoffs quietly before speaking up.

“A friend, totally.” She mutters, resting her cheek in one palm.

Yuuri flushes and curls in on himself, palms to his forehead, while Hiroko admonishes his sister.

“Mari! Don’t tease your brother so much! But please Yuuri, do introduce us.”

Yuuri takes an extensive breath before looking up. This is also when he realizes that they’re all still speaking Japanese; Victor most likely has no idea what’s going on. 

Yuuri looks up to see Victor’s expression caught in the crossroads of confused, amused, and alarmed. It’s actually sort of funny, but Yuuri catches himself from laughing.

“Okay, okay. Everyone, this is Victor, my, um, rinkmate.” For the next part, he switches to English. “Victor, this is my family. My English is better than their’s, so I’m going to just translate back and forth.”

Victor relaxes a bit, and exhales. 

“Yeah, okay. Alright. That sounds good.” 

* * *

Yuuri starts to lose control of the situation again when Yuuko shows up. Victor and his family are getting along, despite the Katsukis' limited English and Yuuri's awkward translating. Yuuri can tell that his mom especially likes Victor. Yuuri's going to be hearing about this call for a while.

Yuuko finds her way onto the screen eventually, and nearly collapses next to the Katsukis.

“Oh my god,” she whispers. “Oh my god.”

“Good evening, Yuuko.” Yuuri says in response. He knows she just needs to ride out her fangirling. They’ve been friends long enough that they know each other’s drill.

“A part of me couldn’t believe it, Yuuri, but I think I do now.” She says, eyes wide. “Oh my god.” 

Apparently, that’s going to be a periodically uttered phrase for her today. 

“So Victor,” Yuuri says in English, “This is Yuuko. She’s a childhood friend.”

Victor raises his hand to wave. “Hello, Yuuko!”

Yuuko shrieks a little before covering her mouth, cheeks and ears blooming red. 

“H-hi.” She replies. Her English is better than his family’s so Yuuri probably won’t have to translate anything for her.

“Um,” Yuuko stutters, “I’m a huge fan of your skating! I remember watching you on TV with Yuuri when we were kids!”

“Yuuko!” Yuuri cries. To his side, Yuuri hears that gleeful gasp Victor seems to constantly have on hand.

“Yuuri! You’ve watched my skating for so long? Oh, I’m so flattered!” Victor migrates back to draping himself on Yuuri’s shoulders. The surprised--and mischievous, if you’re Mari--looks on his loved ones’ faces make him tense. 

“Y-yeah.” He says. “You’ve been skating for a long time.”

Victor hums at that.

“Yes. I have, haven’t I?”

Yuuri’s eyebrows furrow when he at that. He’d thought those words would be said with pride, but Victor’s tone isn’t like that. It’s more...contemplative? Thoughtful? Downcast? 

It’s not what he’s expecting from the Living Legend, but, Yuuri supposes, isn’t it Victor’s job to surprise?

* * *

They say goodbye to the family and cut the call. The goodbye he said to Vicchan was ~~much~~ _a bit_ more melancholy than the others, and Yuuri’s sure Victor could tell. The moment the call goes down, Victor is on him about it.

“So, that was Vicchan, huh?”

“Yep.” Yuuri says as he closes down his laptop. He moves to the desk to plug in the charger. 

“He’s really cute, Yuuri. I’d love to meet him some day.”

Yuuri fiddles with the charging cables before answering. 

“You kind of just did.”

“I mean in person.” 

Yuuri looks up to see Victor staring hopefully at him from the bed. 

“Victor, if this is about the papers, it’s really okay. I’m sure I’ll visit soon.”

“But you look so down when you talk about him, Yuuri! I hate seeing you so sad.”

Yuuri takes an uneven breath. “Thank you for worrying about me, but you shouldn’t. Really, I’m okay.” Yuuri moves towards the door of the room.

Victor luckily seems to recognize the finality in both his words and movements. He says nothing, instead opting to just follow Yuuri out into the hall. 

Yuuri leads Victor to the front door. When they reach the kitchen, Victor waves hello to Yurio, who practically hisses before taking whatever snack he’s holding to his room. 

Yuuri sighs. It’s nice to see some familiarity after the emotional rollercoaster that was the last couple hours or so. 

As Yuuri opens the door for him, Victor looks back from the threshold, hesitance in his eyes. 

“Um, Yuuri...” He says. Nothing more, and Yuuri takes it as a cue to speak.

“What’s wrong, Victor?” 

Victor licks his lips before replying. Yuuri tenses up reflexively. 

“You and Phichit seem very close.”

_ What?  _

Out of all the possibilities flying around his mind, all of the things he could’ve easily done to upset Victor, and _that’s_ what he says? 

Yuuri darts his eyes around before settling on Victor’s. 

“Well, yeah, we are. We're close.”

Victor straightens his shoulders, like he’s bracing for an impact.

“Are you two dating?”

Yuuri’s mouth drops open. He doesn’t think before stuttering out,  _ no, we’re not.  _

“Okay.” Victor shifts his weight. “Did you...date in the past?”

“...no?”

A few moments pass before Victor responds. 

“Oh! Okay!” That charming, genuine grin is back. “It was nice to meet your friends and family, Yuuri. Thank you for letting me.”

Yuuri thinks he manages to recover considerably quickly, despite the mood swings. 

“Y-yeah. No problem. I’m glad you did.” He chances a small smile of his own, and Victor’s grows. 

“Me too. Goodnight, Yuuri. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah. Goodnight.” 

Yuuri watches Victor walk halfwat down the hall before closing the door. He leans against it with a sigh. 

_ What a night.  _

He makes two steps forward before he feels something hard crack under his foot. He lifts up his leg in alarm, to find what looks like a squashed cat treat biscuit now caked to both his sock and the hardwood floor. 

_ Ah,  _ Yuuri muses as he peels off the soiled sock, _Victor was right._   _ There  _ is _ a cat here.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Voila! How was that? This chapter was hard to write but I think I'm pretty satisfied with the end result. 
> 
> Thank you so much for your comments, kudos, bookmarks, and hits. I know I say this every update, but your presence really keeps me going. 
> 
> Until next time!


	7. Interlude: Phichit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New perspective, guess who?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel the need to note, that during the last chapter I described Mari as "yankee looking" and I meant to explain what I meant but forgot to :/ 
> 
> Japanese uses a lot of loanwords in it; there's an entire alphabet, katakana, dedicated to being used for foreign words/names. One of the loanwords is yankee (ヤンキー). In English, yankee just means an American person, but in Japanese, it's used as "delinquent." In one of the Skater's Parameters released some time ago, Yuri is described to have a ヤンキー魂, or yankee spirit. So, due to Mari's dyed hair, piercings, and tendency to smoke, I thought it would be appropriate to describe her that way.
> 
> I'm sorry if that was confusing for anyone, or if you all already knew that and I'm just wasting your time/coming off as patronizing. (~_~;)
> 
> Anyway, let's finally get into this, yes?

Phichit Chulanont fancies himself a bit of a private investigator. Those who have spoken to him know about his internet prowess; Phichit can find just about anything on anyone, as long as that information resides somewhere within the caverns of social media. 

And, well; outside from time to time, too. When you’ve got sweet-talking skills on the level of professional honeypots, a hot Japanese friend, and  _ incredible _ eyeliner, sometimes people will have trouble saying no to you. 

Basic psychology, really. Studies have shown that physically attractive individuals are considered to be more assertive, likeable, and trustworthy. Piece of cake to manipulate that little blind spot in the human brain. 

That’s not to say, however, that Phichit uses his powers for evil, or even often. No, Phichit brings out his special brand of charm to protect those he cares about. If there may be a problem on the horizon, he finds what information he can; through second hand, source documents, and, when the opportunity arises, personal experiments. 

Which leads us to now. 

Phichit had slowly been collecting what he could on Victor Nikiforov ever since Yuuri’s first call from Russia. 

_ You’ll never believe who was waiting for me at the airport--Victor. Nikiforov!  _

_ I told him he didn’t have to, but he dragged my suitcase anyway! And put it in the car for me! Oh, the car is pink, by the way-- _

_ I thought he was going to let go of my hand, but no, he walked me to the door like that! I think my hands were sweaty, Phichit, I’m so gross-- _

_ Victor also came by to see me to the rink, he said he was worried I wouldn’t have anyone to help me-- _

_ We’re going sightseeing!-- _

_ The interviews never said how  _ warm _ he is. I thought I would die Phichit, he’s just so kind to me! _

_ Nice my ass _ , Phichit had thought at the time,  _ that man is trying to get into your pants. _

The research Phichit has conducted since then hasn’t  _ disproved _ this, but there may be more to it than he first thought. 

Take just a half hour ago. His first Skype call with the two lovebirds _rinkmates_. 

Out of everything that he’s collected, this screenshot may be the best evidence to convince Yuuri of Victor’s intentions. 

They’re sitting on Yuuri’s bed-- _ woof _ , already--much too close to be platonic. Yuuri can try to make the “it’s small” argument all he wants; they didn’t have to sit facing the end of the bed.

Yuuri’s flushed from Victor’s compliment, eyes wide and a soft, please smile on his face. Small, but he still looked more blushingly pleased than Phichit had ever seen him. 

This is to be expected, but  _ oh _ , Victor Nikiforov. 

Phichit has caught Victor in not only the most relaxed position during the entire call, but more relaxed than in any other photo he’s ever seen of the champion.  

Victor’s smiling, too, all wide and happy. His posture is loose and casual; honestly, everything about Victor’s appearance says  _ I’m comfortable _ . And if Phichit’s not mistaken, there may be a blush on his face, too. 

_ Woof, indeed.  _

Admittedly, Phichit feels bad for being the one to make Victor so tense, but he hadn’t realized a single petname would affect him so much. Maybe when Victor has crushes--that’s a bit of a an odd thought, the practically robotic ice god Nikiforov with a crush--he’s really terrible at hiding his feelings?

_ Eh, doesn’t matter too much, _ Phichit thinks as he moves the shot into a computer folder marked  _ victuuri  _ (“Get it, Yuuri, it sounds like victory! Hey, don’t you dare hang up on me!--”). 

The only thing that matters here is that Phichit may have the crucial piece of evidence to  _ finally  _ convince Yuuri that Victor is into him. And not just in the gland-to-gland-combat sort of way; no, we have a nasty case of the all-encompassing romantic-suggestion-tumblr sort of feelings on our hands. 

Dr. Chulanont is here, and he’s here to make it worse in the best way possible. 

Honestly, who could’ve imagined that Yuuri is gonna get with the guy in his posters? The ones Phichit caught him kissing too many times to be a mistake of perspective or Yuuri tripping into the wall? 

Even if he’s only living the Russian life vicariously through Yuuri’s stories,  _ by god _ is this exciting! 

Phichit shuts down his computer for bed, and brushes his teeth to thoughts of mischief, skating, and his next project in Photography. 

Although Yuuri’s absence sometimes still hurts--it’s the first time Phichit’s been alone since coming to Detroit--Phichit has the feeling that everything happening right now, is meant to be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, I know it was short, I'm sorry! Classes have started back up for me so I'm suddenly swamped with all these obligations. I hope you enjoyed it regardless of the length. 
> 
> Oh, and just for fun, here's some of the sex euphemisms that got passed over in favor of combat:
> 
> -attacking the pink fortress   
> -assault with a friendly weapon  
> -banana in the fruit salad  
> -bonestorming (didn't fit the format :( )   
> -bedroom rodeo  
> -bringing an al dente noodle to the spaghetti house (too long unfortunately)  
> -cleaning the cobwebs with the womb broom (they don't have wombs lol)  
> -crashing the custard truck   
> -disappointing the wife (they're dudes)  
> -doing the horizontal greased-weasel tango   
> -extreme flirting  
> -filling the cream donut   
> -let's ride the boney express   
> -introducing charley   
> -launching the meat missile   
> -playing a game of Mr. Wobbly hides his helmet   
> -playing peek-a-boo with your vein cane in the flesh pipe  
> -pressure-washing the quiver bone  
> -putting ranch dressing in Hidden Valley  
> -schnoodlypooping  
> -shooting the meat rocket into the sausage wallet  
> -taking Grandma to Applebee’s  
> -using a telescope to explore the black hole  
> -violating the prime directive
> 
> (I had a lot of fun with that)
> 
> So I think that's all I got for now. I hope it was an enjoyable read, thank you so much for sticking with me, and as always, until next time!


	8. Instagram

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're starting to kick into high gear, folks...

_ It means something more. _

_ No it doesn’t; don’t be so conceited.  _

_ People platonically hold hands all the time. _

_ But it doesn’t feel platonic with him. _

_ You’re projecting. Are you so desperate that you’re willing to push it onto him? He’s being nice, and you’re being selfish.  _

_ Phichit agrees...Phichit exaggerates.  _

_ But what if he does like me? What then?  _

_ Even if that was true, he’d just leave. It’s inevitable. Everyone knows it. _

_ Below average, plain, lackluster, dime-a-dozen... _

_ It’s not worth it. It’s just going to end. Why try?  _

_ Why bother, if it’s just going to... _

_ End?  _

* * *

It’s at the Erarta Museum of Contemporary Art that Yuuri starts to get a clue.

This time, instead of a dual outing between him and Victor, the other rink mates have come along, too. Yuuri smiles like it’s not big deal, but he sort of wanted Victor to himself.

_ Selfish.  _ Yuuri bites his tongue just for some grounding, and focuses on the art surrounding them.

All the paintings were lovely, but one in particular caught everyone’s attention just for a moment. 

A figure sits on a beach, head held in one hand, and watching two other figures splash together in the water. Three stones sit behind the beach chair. The tones of blues and pale yellows...it’s so... _ melancholy.  _

At least, that’s how Yuuri sees it. 

Everyone had their fill and moved on quickly. 

Yuuri had never been a fan of art museums; they were calmingly pleasant, but he didn’t make it a priority to visit when travelling. 

Victor, however, apparently has a hidden love for all classical--and contemporary--arts. 

Yuuri barely registered the--presumably--silly smile on his own face as he looked up at Victor, but he really couldn’t help it. Victor’s excitement is contagious. He pulls Yuuri, specifically, aside every so often to point out technique, influence, or anything else he knows. 

Even with Mila losing interest and instead amusing herself poking fun at Georgi and Yurio, even with Yurio wearing his typical “I hate this,” face--but still sneaking pictures with his phone--the whole affair feels just...intimate. 

Even after almost two months in St. Petersburg, Yuuri still treasures these moments the most; ones where he and Victor can share something together. The little secret, private things. 

The click of a camera shutter pulls Yuuri away from his reverie. Victor looks just as startled, and they both turn to see Mila with her phone raised, a teasing smile adorning her features. 

“That’s for instagram!” She says proudly. 

Yuuri isn’t sure how to react to that, so he just gives a nervous half smile and a nod. Victor is entirely unbothered, as usual. 

There's silence before Yuuri finds the bravery to speak unprompted. 

“Hey, what’s that over there?” 

* * *

_ That _ turns out to be the Nation-Mannequins; painted replicas of the official Russian sports uniforms.

Like a well-oiled machine, the Russian skaters remove their outer coats to reveal their team jackets. 

Apparently, this was a part of the visitation plan all along. Yuuri would have liked to have known earlier, before the creeping fear that they’re all in-tuned robots settled in the back of his mind. 

Yuuri insists on taking the picture, even as Victor and Mila try pulling him into the frame. 

“I don’t have a jacket,” he mumbles, “it would be intruding. I don’t skate for Russia, remember?” 

They both pout but eventually become convinced by Yurio’s groans to  _ just get this over with, dammit!  _

(Nevermind the fact that he brought his team jacket, too...but Yuuri would rather eat his own shoe than argue with Yurio about this. Not worth the hissy fit.) 

“Okay, ready?”

* * *

The picture is nice. Victor is last to see it, opting to crowd behind Yuuri instead of next to him like the others did.

(Yuuri will never say how pleased he is with the proximity.)

Victor squeezes his shoulders and coos his approval; Victor and Georgi are standing with their backs to the camera, showing off the opposite side of the jackets. Mila and Yurio strike poses on the ground, their jackets fully zipped up to display the front. 

Yurio’s glare is still present, but now it looks rather comical next to MIla’s stuck-out tongue, Georgi’s pleasant smile, and Victor’s smirk. 

Yuuri feels a pang of loneliness, and shoves it down. 

As Yuuri turns his head to ask Victor where they go now, Mila’s shutter interrupts them again. 

She looks triumphant. 

“I take back what I said before;  _ this _ is for instagram!” 

* * *

Yuuri and Yurio arrive back home later that day, Victor having dropped them off. Yurio refused to let Victor walk up with them, and although Yuuri wanted to argue, it’s probably for the best.

_ I don’t need to bother him. Besides, all my creepy staring probably makes him uncomfortable and he’s just being polite _ . Yuuri feels a sourness course through him, and he squints his eyes, determined. 

_ Victor shouldn’t have to do anything for me. I don’t need anyone’s pity.  _

* * *

Yuuri is just getting out of the shower when he sees that Phichit has been blowing up his phone. Based on the frantic texts, it seems Mila has posted the photo. And Phichit has  _ opinions _ .

_ ASDFGHJHGFDSAJKFF YUURI _

_ YOU AND VICTOR OH MY GOOOOOOD _

_ THE SS VICTUURI IS SAILING _

_ HOW CAN YOU NOT SEE IT BOI  _

The rest of them are similar, except for the final one demanding he be answered. Yuuri snorts and pulls up instagram to check the damages. 

Yuuri doesn’t know how to feel about what he sees. 

His face is turned away from the camera, but Victor’s is fully visible. Yuuri feels himself go hot. 

Victor’s  _ expression.  _

The softness in his face and smile, the shine of his eyes...Victor has his hands wrapped around his shoulders just as Yuuri remembers, but he doesn’t recall it looking so, so--

Yuuri can’t say it. 

_ Romantic.  _

Yuuri licks his lips. He leaves Phichit on “read” and continues to towel off his hair. Yuuri feels himself shaking. 

_ Too much, too much, too much... _

_ How am I going to face Victor tomorrow?  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri is a complicated creature, and I love him for it. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this! I had fun researching the museum named in the chapter--so much lovely art! I've never been to Russia (even though I'm writing something taking place there, oops) I would love to go there. 
> 
> The painting I describe in the beginning is my favorite that I found, called "Wild Beach in Palanga. Chaise Longue" by Inna Sklyarevskaya. Here's a link: https://www.erarta.com/en/museum/collection/works/detail/Z080724016/
> 
> (Also keep in mind that if I describe something...it might be important later.)
> 
> So, yeah! Thank you so much for your comments, kudos, bookmarks, views, etc etc. Thank you for reading. I hope I can keep providing you entertainment. 
> 
> Until next time, my loves!


	9. Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're getting into some real deep shit here, folks...

Minefields. 

_ That’s what the rink is,  _ Yuuri thinks as he gulps from his water bottle.  _ A minefield.  _

That’s how it felt that morning, anyway. Yuuri had left the apartment early; much earlier than he usually would.

When he would wait for Victor. 

Yuuri swipes his forearm over the sweat garnishing his forehead, cringing at the memory of Victor’s face just hours ago. 

He looked almost _ hurt.  _

But Yuuri covered it up, looked away, practiced and practiced and  _ practiced _ until it was time to leave for Lilia’s studio. 

Yuuri spoke to everyone, sure, as he normally would, but at a distance. He knows they all felt it; the looks of concern were enough tell. Victor asked him why he came so early. Yuuri just said he felt like it. 

Victor asked him to lunch; Yuuri agreed, but invited everyone else, too. 

_ Too much.  _

They had a good time, and for the first time that day, Yuuri relaxed a bit. Smiled, laughed, even teased a bit when he could wrangle his tongue into it. 

Victor slung an arm around his shoulder at one point.

Yuuri froze. Laughed awkwardly. 

Victor took his arm away. 

_ I’m such a moron, _ Yuuri thinks to himself, sliding down the wall of the ballet studio.  _ He’s my friend, right?  _

_ Why am I always like this?  _

“Yuuri! Are you going to sit there like a wilting flower all day, or are you going to  _ dance _ ?” 

Yuuri takes a deep breath before standing. His arms seem to uselessly flop at his side, but he straightens and looks up anyway. 

“I’m going to dance, Madame.” 

Lilia raises her chin just a bit, a rather small movement but still significant. Yuuri has been in her presence long enough to know it as a sign of approval. 

“Let’s see it then.” 

* * *

“Hey.”

Yuuri looks up from preparing dinner at Yurio’s call. Apparently, the teenager had come out of his room while Yuuri was lost in his own thoughts. 

(And his own worries. And guilt. Plenty of that.)

“What?” 

“You’re avoiding Victor. Why?” 

Yuuri turns off the stove and transfers the vegetable stir fry onto separate plates before replying. 

“Why do you care? I seem to remember that you were the one who said I should stay away from him.” 

Yurio groans. “I never said that, moron, I said don’t date him. And look what you went and did! Look what happened!” 

Yuuri’s glad he had already put the plates on the kitchen island; he would’ve dropped them otherwise. 

“What?!” 

Yurio crosses his arms. 

“Don’t play dumb. You’ve been making eyes at each other for like, two months; talking, going out places...” Yurio shakes his head. “Whatever. Look what happened. This is worse than I thought it would be.” 

“W-we were never  _ dating _ !” Yuuri splutters. “Where the hell did you get that idea from?!” 

“I just told you, idiot! Do you ever listen?” 

Yuuri throws his hands in the air. “Friends do that! All the time!  _ We’re friends _ .”

“Why are you avoiding him then?” 

“I don’t know!  _ Because _ !” 

“Well, whatever the reason, it’s stupid.” Yurio picks up his plate and stalks back to his room. “Fix it before you kill everyone else with this angst.” 

Yuuri says nothing before the door slams. He licks his lips and whispers his reply. 

“Yeah, well, fuck you too.” 

* * *

The next few days pass similarly. Yuuri worries himself practically to the point of an ulcer. Phichit tries to rationalize him into making an actual decision.

“Yuuri, I’m telling you, just ask him! I know that he likes you, and you like him! What’s the problem?”

Yuuri wants to tear his hair out. “There  _ is _ a problem! He probably  _ doesn’t _ like me that way, and I’m blowing it up! I’m being conceited, I’ll make him uncomfortable!”

“Yuuri, for the love of god, I love you,” Phichit says, “but you need to stop being  _ so damn dense _ !”

“I’m not  _ dense _ !” 

“Well, you’re sure acting like it!” 

Yuuri curls his legs to his chest and lays his forehead on his knees, arms wrapped around himself. It’s an uncomfortable position in a desk chair, but it makes him feel a little better anyway. 

“Oh, Yuuri.” He hears Phichit mumble. Yuuri can’t see Phichit’s face like this, but he doesn’t need to look up to know that his friend probably has his head cradled in one hand. 

“Okay,” Phichit sighs, “let’s try something. We’re gonna play the what-if game.” 

Yuuri whimpers but looks up. “Oh, Phichit, that’s dangerous...”

“I know it can be, but I think it’ll be fine this time. Come on, humor me.” 

Yuuri sighs and loosens his muscles a bit. “Okay, fine. Hit me.” 

“What if Victor  _ does _ actually like you that way?” 

Yuuri’s heart constricts and his throat goes dry. 

“I-I don’t know...” 

He sees Phichit shift on the couch through the computer monitor. 

“Will it be bad?” 

“Maybe...” 

“Well, what’s bad about it?” 

Yuuri’s face is flushed and his breathing isn’t much better. If he doesn’t calm down soon, a full-blown panic attack will start. 

“I-I can’t do this Phichit--”

“Yes, you can.” Phichit interrupts. “You’ve done this before.” 

Yuuri can’t deny that. They’ve done this before competitions when they were rink mates. 

_ What’s the worst possible scenario? How likely is it? Do you really, truly think it’ll happen? What’s the best possible scenario?  _

It goes on like that. Yuuri knows he gets dramatic and ridiculous, but it’s really not something he can control. 

_ I’d turn it off if I could.  _

“If Victor..liked me...” Yuuri practically choked on that phrase.  _ Like me, romantically. _ “And then I...like him too...” 

“Isn’t that good?” Phichit asks when Yuuri stalls out. 

“No! Yes! No! I don’t know!” 

“Why is it not good?” 

“It’s trouble!” Yuuri exclaims. “Lots of trouble!” 

“What makes it trouble?” 

“It’s a lot, Phichit!”

“Okay, what makes it ‘a lot’?” 

Yuuri practically growls in frustration. “It just is, okay?” He sighs and speaks again before Phichit can. “Listen, it’s late here, I have to go.” 

“Yuuri, please--”

“I mean it. I have to go.”

Phichit licks his lips, but says nothing. Concern in his eyes and hesitation in his movements. 

Yuuri wants to make him stop. 

“Alright, fine,” Phichit breaths. “I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

Yuuri brings his feet to the floor. “Yeah. Later.”

“Oh, and Yuuri,” Phichit cuts off his attempt to click end call. “Just know that I’m here for you, okay? I love you, you know that?” 

“Yeah,” Yuuri mumbles. “I know. Thanks.” 

“Yeah.”

Yuuri hangs up. 

* * *

“Hey, Yuuri, do you want to stretch with me?” Victor asks the next morning.

“No, it’s okay,” Yuuri replies flatly. “I stretched earlier.” He looks dead ahead, barely sparing anyone a glance. 

“Yuuri! Do you want help on your jumps, because I was thinking that--” 

“No, it’s okay,” Yuuri repeats. It’s an hour later now. Getting closer to lunch. “You have training too. It wouldn’t be fair of me to take up your time.”

Victor furrows his brow, and cocks his head to the side. “Yuuri, it’s really no trouble! See, just--”

“Katsuki! Vitya!” Yakov yells from across the rink. “Quit gossiping and get back to practice!” 

Yuuri bows low. “Yes, coach Yakov!” 

He skates away before Victor can protest. 

Victor approaches him again at lunch. 

“Hey, there's this little sandwich place that I’ve wanted to try for a while...” Yuuri feels his heart drop. Victor looks genuinely excited. “You should come with me!” 

_ He’s so sweet.  _

“No, it’s okay. I want to eat by myself today.” 

_ Not, it’s okay. _

_ No, it’s okay. _

_ No.  _

_ It’s okay.  _

Yuuri feels cold, and it has nothing to do with the ice rink. 

* * *

Yuuri is tired. Like he’s gone a full 24 hours without sleeping. Like he’s in a major depressive bout. Like he’s sick and taken all the cold medicine he can without falling asleep.

Yuuri lethargically shoves his belongings into a training bag. Well, not  _ a _ training bag. His own training bag. 

_ Ha, _ Yuuri thinks to himself.  _ Where else would I put anything? In someone else’s?  _

Yuuri sighs aloud. 

_ I’m not funny...I wish I were asleep... _

The door to the locker room opens, but Yuuri doesn’t bother to look up, too lost in himself. He zips his bag shut. 

“Ah, Yuuri?” 

Damn. Maybe he should’ve looked up. 

Yuuri freezes where he stands, and turns slowly to see Victor shutting the door. He’s looking down and his steps don’t carry their usual carefree stride; instead, practically waffling as he steps toward Yuuri. 

_ I don’t want this conversation, _ Yuuri thinks.  _ I have to go.  _

“Um, hi Victor,” Yuuri begins, in as calm a tone as he can muster. “I was just about to leave, so if you’d let me...”

But Victor doesn’t move away. He moves closer, and Yuuri can feel the walls closing in. 

_ Too much.  _

Yuuri picks up his bag. 

“I should go--”

“Yuuri.” 

Yuuri chokes at that tone. It’s worry; it’s frustration; it’s sadness, rolled into one. He’s heard it before, and he’s sure this won’t be the last time either. 

_ I’m always causing trouble _ , Yuuri reprimands himself. _ I’m always being annoying and hurting people... _

“Yuuri,” Victor says again. Yuuri looks up this time. 

_ His eyes still make my heart stutter.  _

“Did I...” Victor starts. He cuts himself off, and breathes before continuing. “Did I...do something wrong?” 

Yuuri startles, eyes growing wide. 

_ Victor, doing something wrong? He did something wrong? No... _

Victor must take Yuuri’s silence as a yes, because he blurts on. 

“I don’t know what I did, but I’m sorry,” Victor apologizes. Entirely unnecessarily, in Yuuri’s opinion. “Did I make you uncomfortable at the museum? Was it one of the pictures? Did I push your boundaries?” 

Yuuri just gapes in surprise. He had no idea Victor Nikiforov was the type to ramble. 

“--and I’ll make it up to you!” Oh, he’s still going. “I promise, please, just tell me what I did!” 

Yuuri can hardly stand to hear this... _ begging _ . He has to stop it. 

_ I’m not worth this. _

“No!” Yuuri shouts. Victor goes quiet. Shock on his features. It occurs to Yuuri that that is the loudest he’s ever spoken around Victor. 

But now isn’t the time to think about that. 

“You’ve done nothing wrong. Nothing.” Yuuri’s breath heaves from his chest like he’s just run a marathon.

“Then what--”

“It’s me.” Yuuri breaks him off. “It’s always me...”  

Victor shifts his weight, and tries to step closer. Yuuri steps back. 

“What do you mean, it’s always you? What’s always you?” 

Yuuri hurriedly swings his bag over his shoulder. “It’s nothing. I’m just, I’m not mad at you.” He mumbles. “Nothing’s wrong with you, Victor. You’re _ perfect. _ ” 

_ And that's the problem.  _

If Yuuri was looking up at that moment, he would’ve see the flush aline Victor’s cheeks. 

“I--Yuuri...” 

Yuuri shoves past Victor. “It’s getting late,” he says, pushing the door open. “I have to go.” 

He leaves Victor there in the locker room. 

Even when Yuuri slinks into a hot shower back at the dorms, he still feels  _ cold _ . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah. That happened. This is where the mild angst tag comes in. Or should I upgrade it to full angst? What do you think is appropriate? 
> 
> This took some time to write, so I hope it was up to your expectations! As always, thank you for supporting me and this story, and I'll see you next time, where hopefully some shit gets solved.


	10. Stay Close to Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to post this yesterday, but I went to a concert and it sorta got lost in the folds. Please enjoy!

“Come over today.”

Yuuri jumps about three feet in the air in surprise. He whips around to find the familiar voice; Victor stands in the locker room doorway-- _ again _ \--a near mirror of their positions two days previous. Victor doesn’t look hesitant now; his eyes burn in determination, his stance stern. 

Yuuri splutters trying to respond.

“Hi Victor, I um, I’m kind of tired today--”

“Yuuri.  _ Please _ .” 

Yuuri’s breath catches at Victor’s plea. He squeezes the fingerless gloves in his hand before making up his mind. 

“Okay.”

* * *

The usual jovial atmosphere of their meetings is gone. Sure, Victor smiles all the same, but it looks _wrong_ somehow. Strained. Not to mention the tautness radiating off of him; Yuuri can’t help but feel tense the whole walk to Victor’s apartment.

He studies the concrete instead of Victor’s profile. 

When Victor opens the door, Makkachin is perceptive enough to understand that something is  _ off _ . He runs to the door but doesn’t pounce on either of them. Yuuri crouches all the same to give him pets. 

“Hi Makkachin,” he murmurs. “It’s good to see you too.” 

“Do you want tea?” Victor asks after they’ve sloughed off their respective jackets. “I have black, or green...” 

Yuuri fiddles with the sleeves of his training shirt. “No, ah, no thank you. I’m okay.” 

“Really? No jam for you then?” Victor asks teasingly as he moves further into the apartment. Despite himself, Yuuri releases a huff of laughter; Victor knows well and good Yuuri’s loathe of Russian tea habits. 

The teasing is...nice. It’s normal. Normal is good. But Yuuri still has to ask, “Victor...what are we doing here, exactly?” 

He hears Victor sigh, which in and of itself sends Yuuri’s heart into a nervous frenzy. 

“I just...wanted to talk to you,” Victor pops his head back into the foyer. “I thought this would be the best place to do it. Now come on in, Makka and I don’t bite!” 

Yuuri bites his lip to try to ward away a small smile. He’s tense, yes, but Victor’s playful nature is still comforting. 

The moment Yuuri sits on the couch, Makkachin is in his lap begging for scratches. Yuuri’s happy to give Makka whatever he wants; the presence of an animal always did wonders for his anxiety. He feels a twinge at the resemblance to Vicchan, and the idea Victor had long since planted in his head resurfaces once again. 

_ No, not now, _ Yuuri thinks as Victor sits down next to him.  _ This now.  _

“What did you, um,” Yuuri starts, “what did you want to talk about?” 

Victor isn’t looking at him when he responds, instead opting to stare out the window across from their perch. “I feel like you’ve been avoiding me.” 

Yuuri waves his hands and sputters out defenses on instinct. “No, no no no no no! I-I just, I...”  _ I’ve totally been avoiding you! Like a jerk!  _ Yuuri steadies himself before continuing. “I’m sorry...it has nothing to do with you,”  _ even though it kind of  _ does _ have everything to do with you-- _ “it’s me. It’s just me.”  _ That’s true, at least.  _

Victor rests his elbows on his knees, one hand over his mouth. “You keep saying that,” he murmurs, “that it’s you. But it doesn’t feel like it. What do you mean?” 

“I don’t know what you want me to say!” Yuuri squeaks defensively, hands clenching into fists. “I said I’m sorry...” 

“ _ I know _ \--” Victor snaps, swinging his neck to meet Yuuri’s eye. He must have heard Yuuri’s surprised gasp, because he takes a deep breath before continuing, much more calmly. “I  _ know _ you’re sorry. Thanks, but Yuuri, please.  _ Please _ just tell me what’s going on. We’re friends, aren’t we?” Victor’s voice raises the statement into a question. A hesitation. Yuuri’s heart thuds. “We owe each other this much, right?” 

Makkachin has retreated into a different room by this point, uncomfortable at the tense air. Yuuri sorely misses the grounding weight in his lap. 

He raises his legs into a squatting position, arms securely around himself before replying. 

“I’m sorry...” 

Victor sighs. He inhales like he’s about to speak, but Yuuri barrels over him before he can. 

“When I was living in Detroit,” Yuuri confides quietly, “there was this pushy girl who was always trying to talk to me.” 

“I--” Victor starts, clearly puzzled. Yuuri keeps talking. 

“One day, our rink mate fell and got hurt. I was really worried; I remember being in the hospital waiting room with her. She tried to hug me, and I shoved her away without even thinking about it.” 

“Wow,” Victor breathes, a touch amused. “Why?” 

“I didn’t want her to know I was unsettled. I didn’t want anyone to know. I felt like...” Yuuri takes a deep breath, “I felt like she was intruding on my feelings or something, and I hated it. It was stepping over a line.” 

“Yuuri...” he hears Victor murmur. Yuuri finally raises his head to look at him. 

“I pushed you away because I was afraid. I didn’t want you to see my shortcomings. I...” Yuuri exhales in anxiousness, “I look up to you, Victor. I’m so sorry I made you feel like you were at fault...” 

Victor breathes deeply and hums before speaking. “So, this doesn’t have anything to do with the picture?” 

“Well,” Yuuri mumbles, “if we’re being honest...a little.” 

“I’m sorry, Yuuri--” 

“No, no!” Yuuri gasps, finally unwinding his arms into a defensive position. “I mean it, you didn’t do anything wrong--” 

“But I clearly made you uncomfortable--” 

“Victor!” Yuuri exclaims, setting his feet to the floor. “Please, let me say this.” When Victor only looks on imploringly, Yuuri takes the chance he’s given. “I don’t want to push you away. I, I  _ like _ the way we are, together. I want us to stay close. Don’t let me shove you away, please...” 

Victor exhales slowly, and Yuuri raises his eyes to see an indescribable look across Victor’s features: relief and comfort, the beginnings of satisfaction and relaxation. 

“I like it too,” he says softly. “Let’s stay close to each other.” 

* * *

Victor drives Yuuri home again, after they had that earlier-mentioned tea to calm down from the whole thing.

Yuuri’s chest feels light in a way it hasn’t been for god knows how long. His smiles and laughs with Victor come easier than ever. Yuuri’s giddy, even. 

_ This is good. This is really, _ really _ good.  _

Yuuri is happy to let Victor walk him upstairs, not wanting their conversation to end. 

However, when they reach the door, Victor’s expression has taken on a more serious tone once again. Some deep, dark recess of Yuuri’s mind tells him he’s fucked up again. 

Yuuri tells that part of himself to shove it, even if he  _ has _ just become somewhat nervous and confused. The man seems to be in a daze.  

“Victor?” 

Victor jumps a bit, and smiles slightly. Yuuri smiles back. 

“Yuuri, I have to ask...what do you want me to be to you?” 

“Huh?” On a list of things Yuuri was expecting Victor to say, that didn’t even crack the top 50. 

Well, if there really was a numbering anyway. Too many possibilities; Yuuri’s mind can turn anything into a near-death experience with a simple snap of his fingers. Or a situation that makes him even mildly off-put. Or any situation, really. 

“What am I to you, Yuuri?” Victor asks. “You said you look up to me...do you want me to be someone like that? A teacher? A father figure?” 

Yuuri grimaces at the idea. Victor chuckles. 

“I see that’s a no, then. What about a brother, a friend?” 

Yuuri hums. “I, um, I don’t know...” 

Victor sighs dramatically, and Yuuri knows he’s about to go in for the kill. “Alright, your boyfriend, then. I promise to do my best.” 

Yuuri jumps an extra three feet in the air this time, rounding out to a nice, even six. “No, no, no, no, no! I want you to stay who you are, Victor!” Victor’s guarded surprise spurs Yuuri on, “You don’t have to change yourself; you don’t have to be  _ anything _ but Victor.”

Yuuri hears Victor’s shaking exhale and sees a look of what he dares to call  _ wonder _ cast across his eyes.

“Okay,” Victor breathes, “I think I can do that.” 

“Great,” Yuuri says just as quietly, turning to unlock the door. 

“But!” Victor exclaims, “I have one condition!” 

Victor’s chipper body language has returned, one index finger poised on his lips in mock-thought. 

Yuuri slowly turns around and swallows thickly. “A-alright? What is it?” 

“If Victor is Victor,” he replies slyly, “then Yuuri must be Yuuri.” 

Yuuri feels his cheeks flush; he stares a moment in shock before involuntarily cracking a smile; the light giddiness is back. 

“Okay,” Yuuri parrots, “I think I can do that.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-da, resolution! I really love to connect things I write to canon one way or another, so you'll probably see me hitting similar notes. I think that's the best way for me to keep things in-character. Although I have to say, I'm not completely satisfied with this but couldn't figure out what bothered me. It's probably just anxiety.
> 
> And I apologize to Russian tea-drinkers out there; I don't mean to single you out, but jam-in-the-tea is like a victuuri fic trope now! I hope I don't put you off!
> 
> Also: 500+ kudos, over 100 bookmarks, and just over 100 comments (I don't count my own responses). That's absolutely fucking wild. I can't believe how kind you all are to me; thank you so much for your support. I wouldn't have the confidence to keep this going without you. 
> 
> So, once again, until next time!


	11. Different

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Countdown to the competitive season+a new POV

“I think,” Yuuri muses one afternoon in early May, “I’d like to do something different.” 

“Different?” Victor asks from across the table in the rink’s breakroom. Yuuri nods. 

“I feel...different. In a good way. And I’m somewhere new. I just think I want to do something  _ else _ .”

An excited grin slowly creeps across Victor’s lips. “You mean you want to surprise people.” 

“I-yes,” Yuuri says, determination shining through the anxiety in his thoughts. “I want to surprise people.” 

Victor snatches his hands from across the table, holding both of them in his own. Yuuri’s heart--and body--give a surprise start. That smile of Victor’s seems to widen along with a mischievous sparkle hazing his eyes. 

“I may have just the thing for you, Yuuri.” 

* * *

“Oh my god.”

“Right?” 

“ _ Oh my god _ .” 

“Right?!” 

“I can’t tell if this is perfect, or absolutely wrong for me.” Yuuri says, wringing his hands in the blanket lying on Victor’s couch. 

The music Victor’s just played for him... _ On Love: Eros _ . It lives up to its name; Yuuri can hear the story of a playboy and his victims. It’s  _ alluring _ , and  _ sultry _ , and  _ fast _ , and  _ nothing _ like what Yuuri has done before. 

He’s apprehensive, and Victor seems to easily sense it; he’s getting better at reading Yuuri, these days. But he must also see the interest in his eyes, because Victor argues. 

“I think it’s  _ perfect _ . Absolutely perfect. It’s different, like you said, and it’s an interesting song, isn’t it?” Victor pulls his computer onto his lap and makes a few clicks. “There’s a second arrangement, if you’d like to hear it.” 

“Yeah,” Yuuri replies, pushing up his glasses unnecessarily. “Let’s try the next one.” 

“Okay,” Victor clicks the play button. “This is  _ On Love: Agape. _ ” 

* * *

Yuuri doesn’t like it as much as _ Eros _ . That’s...strange, he thinks, but makes a bit of sense. Yuuri knows it’s obvious to anyone looking that he has only the rare, scattered romantic attraction under his belt; the only sexual encounters appear in the form of a few drunken makeouts at college parties (but he wouldn’t like to talk about those, even if he could completely remember them).

Eros, of course, is raw sexuality. And Yuuri doubts he can channel something like that. But it’s fast, and he likes fast. Yuuri can already visualize the dizzying step sequences, infused with tango and flamenco, a more feminine air than anything he’s skated to before...

_ Agape _ is lovely, but doesn’t spark him the same way as  _ Eros _ does. Yuuri tells Victor as much, petting Makkachin as a stress reliever. 

“Is that so?” He prompts, shutting his laptop. Yuuri nods. 

“Yes. I think, I’m going to try it. Well, maybe. I don’t know.” 

Victor stretches and lays one arm behind the couch back. Yuuri tries not to stare at the peek of skin revealed as his shirt raises up with him. 

“You don’t have to pick anything now,” Victor assures. “But I think it’s really good for you. I think you could do it. I already have some choreography thought out, do you want to try?” 

“I have choreography in my head, too!” Yuuri replies excitedly. His sudden animation jostles Makkachin, who snuffles before putting his head back down on Yuuri’s thigh. He pats the dog’s head as an apology. “I want to try.” 

“Really?” Victor looks just as excited. Yuuri laughs and bobs his head. 

“Yes, let’s do it!” 

* * *

“Yuuri and I are choreographing a routine.”

Yakov looks up at the sound of his pupil/ closest-thing-to-a-son-he-has/headache inducer, Victor. He stands in the doorway of the rink office, almost abashedly. Yakov waves him in, setting down the necessary evil that is paperwork. 

“Are you now?” He inquires, shuffling the papers so that each hole punch lines with the one before it. 

Really, some of the only semblance of neatness in his life. 

Victor nods, a genuine smile--small, but present--on his face. He sits down in front of his coach. 

“Yep! It’s his SP, and we’re going to work on it together! We both have the same ideas about the music and everything!” 

“Vitya,” Yakov rubs his temples, “you have to work on your own routines for next season. I know you want Katsuki to feel welcome--”  _ or something a lot less innocent _ “--but you have yourself to worry about.” 

“Oh, Yakov, I know!” Victor whines. “I have a handle on it; when have I ever let you down?” Victor pauses a moment before waving his hands flippantly. “Don’t answer that.” 

“Vitya, you don’t let me down.” 

Victor huffs. “Oh, don’t pretend. You remember Trophee De France, 2008? With the Armagnac and inflatable pool--” 

“ _ Yes _ , Vitya,” Yakov interrupts sternly, “we all remember France 2008.” He sighs before continuing. “You’re a stupid boy, Vitya, and you do stupid things,  _ constantly _ , but you’re  _ not _ a disappointment.” 

“Oh.” Victor blinks owlishly. “Thanks, I guess?” He’s quiet a second more before splitting into a large, practiced grin. “But anyway! Back to me and Yuuri!” 

Yakov sighs,  _ again _ . It’s essentially how he breathes now. “What about you and Katsuki?” 

“Let us create a routine together!” Victor pleas, hands clasped together like a child asking to stay overnight at a friend’s house. “We already have the basic choreography planned, and we’re working on the jumps, and you know I’ve never been late with routines before!” 

“Vitya...” 

“C’mon, Yakov! It’ll be amazing!” 

Yakov goes to protest again, about the absurdity of this entire situation; Victor has rarely asked for his explicit permission to do  _ anything _ , and to do it now? And the request is to do a joint choreographed routine--which Victor has  _ never _ done before, or even showed interest in working with someone else--that could easily end in disaster, grudges, an insurmountable tense air caused by Victor's inability to play well with others, but _then_. 

_ Then _ , Yakov thinks of the way Victor has acted in the last few months or so since Katsuki Yuuri arrived. 

Yakov has known Victor since he was just a small child. He’s the only coach Victor’s ever had, and his rink and home became a sanctuary during the toughest points of the boy’s life.  He’s seen Victor at his best and worst and everything in between; but the way Victor is acting  _ now _ , is unusual. 

Yakov isn’t blind to the way Victor has been fading into the background over the last few years. The frivolous way he passes over his so-called competition with a mockery of a true smile, and even if Yakov doesn’t quite understand, he gets that whatever has been bothering Victor has been subsequently affecting his skating. 

A year or so ago, Victor seemed to have a renewed vigor. He came to the rink in a way he hasn’t for a long time: with bright eyes and ideas flowing from his mouth a mile a minute. 

It had been wonderful, to see the Living Legend back to snuff, knocked out of that rut he seemed to have lived in. 

But it wasn’t a permanent fix, whatever it was. 

As Victor watched the other competitors in a way he hasn’t done his first couple of years in the senior division, his eyes lowered again into a calculating stare. Whatever novelty had worn off, and the cloud had resumed its place. 

Not as bad as it was before, but still...nothing good. 

However, comparing the rink before and after Katsuki...

Everyone has taken to the Japanese skater like bees to honey. Lilia included, although like her husband, she won’t admit it directly unless under gunpoint. 

(Nothing against Katsuki, of course. This is just their way.) 

And although everyone has swarmed around Katsuki’s hospitable, innocent aura, it’s Victor that seems the most caught. 

Victor smiles more than before. He’s more enthusiastic on the ice; laughs come easier. The only correlation is Katsuki Yuuri. 

Yakov considers all of this, and replies to Victor accordingly. 

“Okay. You have my permission.” 

Victor whoops--a noise Yakov didn’t know he was capable of making--and pumps a fist in the air. 

“But!” Yakov shouts over Victor’s raucous, “ _ But _ , you two  _ must _ have my approval before doing anything official. Bring me the music and what you have tomorrow. For now, get out of my office. I’m closing up the rink.” 

“Yes, sir!” Victor crows, hand coming to his forehead in a mock salute. “You won’t regret it, Yakov!” With that, Victor races out of the room, calling after someone Yakov can only guess is Katsuki. Victor only sounds so excited and sugary around that boy nowadays. 

_ No _ , Yakov contemplates as he locks his office and palms his car keys.  _ I don’t think I will regret it.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I hope you enjoyed this. I must admit my spirits are low today for personal reasons, but I wanted to get this out anyway. My usual excessive exclamation points probably won't be found on this chapter. 
> 
> Anyway, enough of my sob stories. This was difficult to write, because you get to the point where you have to remember you're own canon and you're like, "did I say that, think that, or read it somewhere else?" If anything seems wrong, please let me know.
> 
> Thank you for being there for me with kind words and encouragements. 
> 
> Until next time, friends.


	12. Unknown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello lights of my life, it's angst time.

It’s the first week of June when Victor has to take Makkachin to the vet. 

It happened on one of the rare nights where Victor and Yuuri weren’t together; Yuuri had gone home right after practice with Lilia to sleep. He’d bid Victor a temporary farewell at the rink. 

Yuuri had woken to frantic texts from Victor, most full of hasty misspellings. His stomach went cold when he deciphered the messages: Makkachin had swallowed something, and it got stuck in his throat. 

Yuuri doesn’t hesitate to ask for the address of the vet’s office. 

* * *

Yuuri circumspectly pushes open the door to what he hopes is the vet’s office. It’d be terrible if he misread the address and walked into a random building at nearly 11pm.

The first person he sees is Yakov--or, really, Yakov’s back. He’s turned towards someone, murmuring, and Yuuri can easily guess who he’s talking to. 

Yuuri shuts the door as softly as he can and peeks over Yakov’s shoulder. 

Victor is sitting hunched over in those uncomfortable plastic chairs that seem to exist everywhere in the world. Inlaw chairs, he remembers an American rinkmate calling them. They’re a slow torture; hard and awkward. You’re not meant to stay long in them. 

Victor’s not shaking, but it’d be clear to any random person who saw this scene that something was wrong. His elbows are on his knees, hands meeting in the middle as a resting bench for Victor’s forehead. His hair once again obscures his eyes. 

Yuuri brings his left arm over his heart and cradles his forearm with the other. His nails dig into his skin through his jacket, familiar nauseating anxiety curling up his body. “Victor...Coach Yakov...” 

Yakov turns in his natural heavy gait, but Victor snaps up immediately, bangs fluttering to rest back over his eye. 

Victor isn’t crying now but...Yuuri is quite familiar with the red rim on his lower lashline. 

“Katsuki,” Yakov greets at the same time as Victor’s “Yuuri!” 

Yuuri sees the nerves in Victor’s eyes. Victor looks down and away as quickly as he had looked up.

Yakov looks between the two of them before standing slowly. “I’m going to get all of us some water. Or coffee. Do either of you have a preference?” 

“I’m okay,” Yuuri mumbles. 

“No,” Victor groans, then clears his throat. “No preference.” 

Yakov nods once, ever-present hat tipping forward. “I’ll be back.” 

He walks out into the adjacent hallway Yuuri just came from, leaving the two of them alone. It occurs to Yuuri that this is the quietest and most gentle he’s ever seen Yakov. 

Victor’s gone back to hiding his face, but at least he isn’t so hunched over. 

_ Small victories _ , Yuuri thinks as he lowers himself into Yakov’s vacated seat. 

The room is quiet, devoid of music or movement; there isn’t even a secretary at the desk. This trip must have been a call-in. 

The fluorescent lights bathe the white room in fogged sterility with an artificial yellow sheen. Yuuri can hear his chair creek, his pullover wringing between his fingers. The ambience of his own breathing matched with Victor’s is suffocating. 

Yuuri watches the clock on the wall and berates himself for his lack of common small talk skills. 

* * *

It takes a little while before Victor is ready to speak. Yakov still isn’t back, but Yuuri suspects he just wanted to give them time alone. Yuuri will send a text when it’s all clear.

Yuuri’s breath catches when Victor looks up, even if Victor’s gaze isn’t on him. It’s towards the door where Yuuri assumes Makkachin is with the vet. 

“I didn’t really expect you to come.” Victor’s voice is croaky, and Yuuri considers just for a second texting Yakov to hurry with those drinks. 

“You didn’t expect me to come?” 

Victor takes his hands away from his face finally, and leans against the chair backing. “I didn’t think you would ask for an address.” He sighs, “I don’t know why I texted you all this.” 

Yuuri’s heart sinks. 

_ Is this a mistake?  _

“I-I’m sorry,” Yuuri stutters, “I can leave if you want, if I’m not supposed to be here--” 

“No!” Victor interrupts, body lurching towards Yuuri. “I didn’t mean it like that!” 

Yuuri leans back a back a bit in response. Victor startles, as if just realizing his own movement, and sits back again. 

After about another minute of Victor resolutely not looking at him, Yuuri speaks again. 

“Then what..?” 

Victor sighs and leans onto his knees again. “Maybe it’s stupid, or maybe it’s not, but...I didn’t know if you’d care.” 

Yuuri can feel his mouth drop open, but the pop of his jawbone is nothing compared to the cold shock that bursts outwards from his stomach. 

_ He didn’t think I’d care? _

“You-you think I wouldn’t have  _ cared _ ?” 

Victor lowers his head, like he’s _ ashamed _ of himself or something. And all Yuuri can think is,  _ what did I do? _

“Victor, how could you think...did I do something that made you think that?” 

Victor shakes his head, but doesn’t raise his eyes. 

“Then _ wha _ t--” 

“It’s not you,” Victor blurts. 

“It’s...it’s not?” 

“ _ No _ . Of course not.” 

“Is it...you?” 

Victor barks a harsh, false laugh. It’s uncomfortable, and Yuuri feels frightened just for a moment. “Yeah,” he says, “I guess you can say that.” He turns to Yuuri, finally. “Remember what you said about yourself? ‘It’s not you, it’s always me’? Yeah. That’s it.” 

“Victor, I still don’t quite understand--” 

“I don’t know either!” Victor throws up his hands, “I didn’t think you wouldn’t care, I just...I don’t know, I wasn’t expecting you to ask to come?” He lowers his arms to cross over his chest. “I know you would care, because you care about things and other people and I really like that about you--” Yuuri warms a bit at that confession “--and really, I don’t know. But I know that I’m glad you’re here.” Victor ends his nervous sputtering by properly looking Yuuri in the eye, as if he’s begging for a response. 

Yuuri breathes, and gives it to him. “It’s okay to not know, I think.” 

Victor’s posture relaxes just a bit from the tense, guarded thing it was, into wary confusion. “What?” 

“It’s okay not to know,” Yuuri repeats. “Sometimes, I don’t know why I feel the way I do. I get  _ terrified _ for no reason and I panic and there are times when I don’t know how to stop it. But I’ve gotten through life not knowing sometimes, so...” Yuuri trails off, the anxiousness of sharing something so personal ruining his train of thought. 

But he thinks Victor must get it, because he stares in what Yuuri hesitantly calls wonder, or an epiphany. The fluorescents make it hard to see, but Victor’s cheeks may be red. 

“You don’t have to know everything all the time,” Yuuri finishes. 

“Wow...” Victor murmurs, much more softly than his usual exclamations. “I didn’t think of it like that.” He laughs again, this time without the unnerving harshness. “That’s kind of scary.” 

“Yeah,” Yuuri agrees, “but we can’t always feel secure.” 

“Yeah,” Victor parrots. “Yeah.” 

In a moment’s flash, Victor has his arms around Yuuri’s neck, head buried in his shoulder. Yuuri freezes before slowly settling into and returning the embrace. 

“Thank you,” Victor mumbles, squeezing him. Yuuri squeezes back. 

“Pozhaluysta.” 

_ You’re welcome.  _

* * *

Eventually, Yakov comes back. And so does the doctor with news about Makkachin. Yuuri can’t catch a lot of it, but he gleams that Makkachin will be just fine. He’s just sleeping, she says. Victor shakes both of her hands in his, smiling so wide it looks like his lips will split apart.

“I came on a bus,” Yuuri replies when Victor asks how he got here. “But I don’t know if they’re running anymore...” 

“I can drive you,” Victor says, adjusting Makkachin in his arms. 

“No, no!” Yuuri objects. “You should get Makkachin home. I’ll figure out my own way.” 

“I’ll drive Katsuki,” Yakov interrupts gruffly. “Go home, Vitya. Get some sleep. Call me in the morning.” 

Victor seems to be too exhausted to argue, because he yawns and concedes. They part ways quickly, and soon, he’s alone with the coach. 

Yuuri would be lying if he said the silence wasn’t awkward. 

Some blocks later, Yakov calls his name tightly. Yuuri looks up from his hands. 

“Thank you for coming tonight,” Yakov says, eyes on the road. “It was good for Vitya.” 

“I was happy to be there.” Yuuri says softly, glancing at his coach before returning his gaze downwards. “I’ll always be happy to be there.”

Yuuri swears he can hear a smile in Yakov’s face when he replies. 

“I know.” 

* * *

Yurio is up when Yuuri gets back, but he seems more heedful than anything else.

“Oi, Katsuki,” he says, stopping Yuuri from going to his room. “Everything okay?” 

“I--yeah,” Yuuri replies, at once surprised and expectant of the question. Regardless of how Yurio acts, it’s clear he looks up to Victor. Cares about him. “Everything’s fine.” 

“Good,” Yurio concludes. “Go to bed or something, you look terrible.” 

With that, he slams the door to his room. Yuuri smiles a bit, used to his behavior. 

He’s just shy, after all, with his affections. But they’re there. Especially when his cat, Potya, is involved. 

_ I’ll go to bed _ , Yuuri reasons with himself,  _ after one more thing.  _

Yuuri shuts his door for privacy, and clicks into his recent calls. He taps a very familiar number. 

They pick up almost right away. 

“Hey, mom? Sorry if you were sleeping, but, there's something I want to talk about...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh, hi. I'm a little late, I know, but a lot's been going on. I've basically been disassociating for like 2 weeks straight, I'm forgetting things left and right, and I have no motivation. Everything is difficult and I'm sad :(
> 
> I hope I communicated everything effectively in this chapter, and I want to thank you for all your well wishes in the last installment.
> 
> Also, sorry abt Makkachin. The steam buns escape no fanfic. 
> 
> Thank you for reading; I'll see you next time!


	13. Vicchan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and now, the moment we've all been waiting for...

“How long do plan to be gone?” 

“Two weeks,” Yuuri replies, before shyly adding, “if that’s alright.”

“Yes,” Yakov says, only glancing up occasionally from his desk. “You have my permission. But only if you continue to work on your routine and jumps. Update me daily, send videos if you need to. And try to find some music for your free skate!”

“Yes, sir!” Yuuri blurts, bowing slightly. “I will, thank you very much!” 

“When do you leave again?” 

“The closest flight is in two days, so then.” 

“Alright. Keep in mind that GPF assignments will come out while you’re their.” Yakov says, closing the manilla folder containing whatever papers he was reviewing. “Since tomorrow is your day off, I’ll see you when you return from your trip, then. Send your family my regards.” 

“I will,” Yuuri promises. “Thank you again!” He leaves after Yakov hums in acknowledgment. 

_ Vicchan, here I come! _

* * *

“Ah, how exciting!” Victor cheers. “This is absolutely wonderful news!”

“Yeah, I think so too,” Yuuri smiles shakily. He’s excited, but it’s been nearly five years since he’s seen his family. The expectations of coming home, _right_ _now_?

Inappropriately placed embraces his heart. 

“Yuuri?” 

He looks up from the sidewalk at the sound of Victor’s voice. The sunlight from an early-summer afternoon highlights his bare arms, among other muscles Yuuri has been trying dearly not to stare at since the warmer season began to come around. 

They’re walking back to their respective apartments after their own training; Yurio’s stayed late, so Yuuri gets the privilege of Victor to himself.

He blinks at Victor and hums questioningly. 

“Oh, no, it’s just that you seemed lost in thought.” Victor explains. He shifts his training bag over his shoulder. “Are you okay?” 

“Oh, yeah!” Yuuri--only partially!--lies. “I’m fine, it’s nothing.” 

Victor narrows his eyes, and a spark of intimidation floods Yuuri’s nerves. 

“ _ Yuuuuuuriii _ ,” Victor drawls, right in that way that says  _ I know you’re hiding something _ . 

And goddammit, Yuuri can’t resist that drawl. He never can. 

_ I need to learn some self-control _ . 

“W-what?” 

“Why won’t you tell me, Yuuri?” Victor’s lips have shaped into a pout, eyes still steely. “We’re friends, aren’t we? We’re  _ close _ . Something’s wrong.”

“Victor, I...” Yuuri trails off and sighs. Victor’s expression softens some. 

“Please?” 

“I-okay. Fine.” Yuuri takes a deep breath, and focuses on his shoes. “I made a promise.” 

“A promise?”

“Yes. I promised myself I wouldn’t return home until I had won a Grand Prix Series gold medal. And guess what?” Yuuri huffs a harsh, self-deprecating caricature of a laugh. “I haven’t. Going home now...it feels like cheating.” 

Victor’s quiet for a moment, before replying gently, “I don’t think that’s cheating.” 

“It feels like it,” Yuuri grumbles. 

Victor chuckles. “I know, but I don’t think it is. You want to see your family, don’t you? And Vicchan? And they want to see you?” 

“I suppose, yes...” 

“Then what’s the problem?” 

“ _ What’s the problem _ ?” Yuuri parrots in frustration, throwing up his hands. “They spent all this money on me, and I promised I would bring back something to show them I didn’t waste it, and I have nothing. I don’t have any international golds for them.” He smooths his hands down his arms, coming to rest comfortably in the crooks of his elbows. “I have nothing to show for it.” 

“Nothing to show--?!” Victor sounds thrown, and Yuuri’s not sure why. He looks up to see Victor looking at him incredulously, mouth agape. “Nothing to show for it? Yuuri, that’s crazy.” 

Yuuri can feel his walls rising. “What do you mean, _ I’m crazy _ ?” 

“No, no, I mean...look at where you are.” 

Yuuri swivels his head around before deadpanning his reply. “I’m at a crosswalk with a broken signal.” 

Victor groans and wipes a hand down his face. “Now you’re just being difficult.” 

“Okay then: where am I?” 

“You’re on the other side of the world,” Victor begins, voice clear. “And you came here, from another side of the world, where you’ve only been for, what, four years? You’re completing  _ college _ . You’re a professional athlete. Your home has been uprooted so often...” Victor trails off.

Victor’s rarely ever speechless; it’s not that Yuuri relishes it, it’s just interesting to see. 

“I could never handle that,” Victor confesses, looking away. “I couldn’t just leave like that. I was born and raised in St. Petersburg. I’ve never lived anywhere else; I don’t know if I could...” 

“It wasn’t easy,” Yuuri admits, possibly one of the only times he ever has aloud. “I lived in one place all my life, and to just leave one day?” He sighs. “I knew it was coming, but it was still terrifying.” 

“That’s my point, Yuuri,” Victor stresses, before pausing himself. “Well, no, it’s  _ one  _ of my points. Anyway, what I mean is: it was new, and daunting, but you still did it. You did it  _ twice _ !” Victor sighs himself, and combs his fingers through his hair. “I’ve never had the courage to be anywhere else. You’re strong, you know? You really are.” 

Yuuri wavers, but protests still spill from his lips. “Oh, please, Victor. People move to other countries all the time--” 

“But not everyone does!” Victor insists. “And not everyone is successful. Look at you, Yuuri!” He says, awed laughter leaking into his words. “You’ve done it,  _ and _ you’re successful. Like I said, you’re doing college too! English isn’t even your first language!” 

Yuuri snorts. “It’s not yours, either.” 

“Yeah, but I’ve never taken college classes in it!” Victor mumbles, “I’ve never even been to college.” 

“I know,” Yuuri says, before freezing and sputtering his best excuses for damage control. “I mean, well,” Yuuri swears his eyes look like rotating spirals, “Everyone would know, right? All the skaters who’ve gone to college or something usually talk about it in interviews, or post about it at least...” 

Victor hums. “You’re right about that. If Chris was going, we’d never hear the end of college parties and stripper poles.” 

“So not much would change, huh?” Yuuri teases. It earns him a genuine laugh. 

“No, I guess not.” Victor grins, before becoming serious once again. “Anyway, Yuuri, what I mean is: I think you’re a brave person, and I think you’ve accomplished a lot. I know I don’t really know your family, but based on what they do know, I’d say they’re pretty proud of you. They’ll love to have you back.”

“And,” Victor continues, “you’ve certainly won something international.” 

“...No, I’m pretty sure I’d know if I had...” 

“Nonsense!” Victor rebuffs, “You’ve won the heart of the Russian rink!” 

“No, no, no!” Yuuri cries, flushing up a storm. “That’s too much to say!” 

“Of course it isn’t! You’ve definitely won at least _ one _ person’s heart.” 

Yuuri continues to warm at such praise, but quickly deflects from himself anyway. “You too, you know.” 

“Huh?” 

“Your family must be proud, too.” 

Victor seems a bit stunned. “Yeah?” He asks weakly, smile the same way. “I’d hope so.” 

...

“But anyway!” Victor exclaims, just a skosh too cheerful for Yuuri’s tastes. “What are you going to do when you get there?” 

“Oh! Well,” Yuuri flusters, “See Vicchan, of course.” 

“Of course,” Victor says warmly. “Soak in the hot springs?” 

“Oh, yes!” Yuuri groans happily. “The water is just perfect! I can’t wait!” 

“Aw, lucky Yuuri!” Victor teases, “I’ve never been to a hot spring before! The next time I’m in Japan, I’ll definitely go.” Victor turns puppy-dog eyes to Yuuri’s open smile. “Send me updates, won’t you?”

“Ah, you should experience the real thing!” Yuuri urges. “It’s not the same!” 

“Aw, Yuuri!” Victor cries back as they walk up to the skaters’ dorm building. “How would I do that?” 

Yuuri laughs, so caught up in the affable banter he doesn’t think about the next thing he says until it’s come out of his mouth. 

“If you’re looking for the soonest date, just come with me!” 

_ What? _

_ Oh, shit.  _

The elevator doors close, and Yuuri is left alone with Victor standing gobsmacked beside him and that damn sentence in the air. 

“A-ah,” Yuuri stutters, “Victor--” 

“Do you mean it?” 

Yuuri jerks out of his anxious mind at Victor’s question. His eyes are focused on Yuuri, but his expression, his stance, the cloudiness to his gaze...like confusion and marvel and hope were mixed together in a crockpot and served with a bread roll. 

“Huh?” 

“Do you mean it?” Victor asks again, a touch more urgent. “You’d let me come?” 

The tasteless side of his conscious brain says  _ I’d let you do anything you like, _ but Yuuri manages to not blurt  _ that one _ out. 

“I-um,” Yuuri stammers. 

_ Do I want that? Do I want him to come?  _

_ I do.  _

_ But I leave in two days, that’s too short notice... _

_ He probably thinks I’m weird to suggest it.  _

_ He’s gonna tease me or something... _

_ It’s too much, I shouldn’t say it. _

“I do.”  _ Damn. _ Yuuri’s mouth betrays him once again. “Only if you’d like to, that is.” 

The elevator doors open, and he practically sprints to his door; he can hear Victor tripping up behind him. 

“Yes!” Victor cries, “Yes! I’d love to come!” He whips out his phone, talking a mile a minute. “What’s your flight number? I’ll get on the same one! Are you in first class? It’s okay if you’re not, I’ll upgrade the two of us. Give me your flight information, I’ll have it done in no time.” 

Before Yuuri can even protest at the idea of  _ flying first class _ , Victor spins in a circle, movements somehow still light with his bag. 

“This is going to be so much fun, Yuuri! Now that we’ll be together, I won’t have to miss you!”  _ He’d miss me...  _ Yuuri’s heart pounds, Victor clearly remaining unaware. “I better tell Yakov. Oh, and I’ll bring Makkachin with us, so he and Vicchan can get to know each other!” Victor uses his free hand to grab one of Yuuri’s. “Doggy dates!” 

“I--” 

“Well, well, c’mon!” Victor goads, “We’ve not much time!” 

Yuuri can feel his rational mind shutting down. Sometimes, especially in his line of work, you have to get a little crazy. 

And this is definitely a little crazy.

“Okay,” Yuuri breathes dazedly. “Come in, and I’ll tell you everything.” 

* * *

Once again, Yuuri finds himself on an airplane to the other side of the world.

But it’s different this time. 

He’s got his idol-turned-friend sitting next to him in first class seats--which he totally asked Victor not to do, insisting it won’t kill them to fly coach, but Victor was  _ adamant _ \--he’s on his way home for a visit(!), and he’s not about to puke all over the plane’s window. 

All in all, really good. 

More than that: fantastic. Mind blowing. Absolutely unexpected. 

Yuuri normally avoids all things abrupt and unforeseen--it’s sure to rack up his anxiety levels--but when they come in the form of Victor, he’ll take it. 

Yuuri’s just woken up from a plane nap; Victor apparently fell asleep in the meantime, his head now nestled into Yuuri’s shoulder. 

He didn’t know that people  _ could _ actually smile in their sleep, but Victor is always an unending chain of surprises. 

Yuuri smiles too, and his groggy mind runs wild with the thoughts he’d been avoiding for god knows how long. 

_ I’m falling in love with you.  _

* * *

“Yuuri, look! It’s you!”

Victor points excitedly at a wall of posters lining Hasetsu’s train station. Makkachin bounces and barks happily along with him.

Yuuri, on the other hand, squeals and tries to ignore the stares and whispers of the townspeople passing them by. 

“Isn’t that Katsuki Yuuri?” 

“Aw, what a cute dog!”

“Yeah. He went to America, right? Why’s he here?”

“That guy with him...”

“Do you think they’d let us pet their dog?”

“I’ve seen him before! He’s really famous in the skating world.”

_ “Do you think they’re dating?”  _

Yuuri flinches and drags Victor towards the exit turnstiles. 

“Yuuri!” 

Yuuri’s breath catches in his throat; that voice, outside the static of scratchy skype calls...

“Minako-sensei!”

And it’s not just her. Yips burst from the brown fluffball standing obediently beside her. 

“Vicchan!” Yuuri cries, running towards them. 

Vicchan bounds toward him as fast as he can. They meet in the middle, Yuuri dropping to his knees to catch Vicchan in his arms. He doubles over, shaking, and Minako nor Victor need to ask why. 

Vicchan licks the tears from his cheeks, but it’s in vain; the action makes him cry harder. Makkachin puts his paws on Yuuri’s back as if in comfort.

_ I’m home, _ Yuuri thinks, surrounded by the familiar sights and sounds and scents of his little castle town, surrounded by the people he loves and have come to love him. 

“Welcome back, Yuuri,” Minako greets affectionately. “It’s good to have you home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo, onsen time! Nobody commented a guess that Victor would join him, but I'm sure somebody did think about it lol. Thanks for letting me surprise at least most of you, though. 
> 
> I'm very excited about the next few chapters, obviously. In the meantime, I hope this one lived up to your expectations!
> 
> Thank you for supporting this work; until next time!


	14. Seagulls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

He’s awoken by a rather loud noise, not too early in the morning. It’s familiar; he’s heard it for as long as he can remember. 

_ Seagulls... _

But when the man slowly blinks into life in the morning, feeling the warmth of summer breeze over his skin, looking up into a wooden ceiling so unlike the normal cold plaster, he realizes that this is not St. Petersburg. 

_ Oh _ , Victor remembers, _ Hasetsu.  _

* * *

Victor grips the cold separative barrier in the Ice Castle. He looks across the rink and realizes with a jolt that he’s really, truly _ there _ ; where Yuuri first learned to skate, where he began training for Juniors, where he spent endless hours skating compulsories to relax himself.

It’s sort of surreal, Victor thinks, and he reckons that Yuuri must have felt similarly upon entering  _ his _ rink back in Russia. 

Victor feels eyes on his back, although that’s nothing new. It must be the Nishigori family; although he’s met them over skype, they still seem absolutely shellshocked to have him here. 

He’s got his skates on, but the guards, too--he didn’t want to start until Yuuri was with him. Victor’s back prickles against the inquisitive stares and he wonders if Yuuri is done in the locker room yet. 

“Oh, you haven’t started yet.” And speak of the devil, there he is. 

Yuuri smiles and sets his glasses on the barrier. Victor’s muscles relax; Yuuri’s presence alone is calming, he finds. He looks at Victor most often with a similar gaze he would give others; Yuuri looks at him like a  _ person _ . He’s caught Yuuri looking at him before, like he can’t quite believe it, but it’s different. 

It feels  _ different _ . 

Yuuri blinked before turning towards the entrance doors where Yuuko and Takeshi stand. Apparently the triplets are visiting their grandparents at the moment. Victor’s not sure if he feels a bit disappointed or guiltily relieved. 

Victor doesn’t see the expression on Yuuri’s face, but he can imagine it’s nothing pleasant by the way the Nishigoris flinch and slam the door shut. 

“I-I’m sorry,” Yuuri stutters, “They’re just surprised, I guess, to have someone so famous here. I hope they’re not making you uncomfortable...”

“Oh, no!” Victor reflexively denies. “It’s completely alright.” 

Even though it’s not. Even though he’s been feeling less and less interested in fan interactions, in meeting new people. 

But he shouldn’t burden Yuuri with all that. He’s got enough on his mind. 

Yuuri, beautiful, sweet Yuuri, hums and cocks his head towards the rink. 

“So?” 

Victor starts smiling before he even realized his face was moving. 

“Yes. Let’s skate.”

* * *

It doesn’t take long at all for Victor to decide he likes Hasetsu. He figured he would; it’s Yuuri’s hometown, after all, and anything associated with Yuuri  _ must _ be absolutely divine.

He’s been here only a day, and yet the Katsuki family treat him as if he’d always been with them. Hiroko is so wonderfully maternal, in a way Victor has sorely been missing for a good two decades. She’s warm and sweet and caring, just like her son. 

Not to mention her cooking. After Minako got them home, Hiroko sat the two skaters down for what she called a proper meal.  _ Good lord _ , katsudon is pure ambrosia. No wonder Yuuri adores it so!

Toshiya is a fantastic conversationalist; he’s friendly,  _ genuinely _ , not any of that false politeness he’s so used to. Mari, if a little intimidating, at least doesn’t seem to begrudge his presence. 

Mari operates in sideways affection, sarcasm, and amused smiles behind her cigarettes. 

Yuuri’s already cut her off multiple times before she can tell supposedly “embarrassing” stories about Yuuri’s childhood; Victor makes a mental note to speak to Mari privately. 

After they skate, Yuuri does manage to introduce him to Yuuko and Takeshi. They’re very welcoming people, Victor finds, once they get over their initial nerves. 

“You know,” Yuuko says conversationally when Yuuri leaves for the bathroom before they head back to Yutopia. Her English is heavily accented, nothing like his lovely Yuuri’s clear mix of Kyushu and Midwestern American. “Yuuri and I used to copy your skates when we were kids.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah!” She smiles. “We were huge fans, you know? We still are. You inspired Yuuri to pursue skating. I’m sorry if my husband and I have made you uncomfortable at all, but you have to understand that it’s like a childhood fantasy come true to have you here.” 

Before Victor can even muster up anything but a gaping mouth and a flush that would put  _ Yuuri’s _ to shame, said object of his affections returns. 

“Victor?” He calls, adjusting his glasses. “Ready to go?”

_ Cute as ever _ , Victor thinks while nodding. 

“Lead the way, Yuuri!” 

While Victor can escape replying to Yuuko’s recounts--them having completely destroyed his normal heart rate--he can’t evade Yuuri’s concerns as they push through the exit doors. 

“Victor, you look so red!” Yuuri frets, staring up at him in that butterfly-inducing way he does. “Are you getting sick? My mom can make you something, I bet, or I can...”

The thought of Yuuri cooking for him in the wake of a head cold is so terribly domestic that Victor has to shove it down for later before he loses his mind. 

“No, no!” He assures. “I’m fine, it’s just,” Victor waves his hand dismissively, “It’s the rink. Cold in there, yes?” He smiles in a way that he hopes is convincing; it seems to placate Yuuri, at least for now.

“Well, alright,” Yuuri says reluctantly. “But if you feel anything, just tell me!”

Victor’s heart softens along with the rest of himself. He looks into the sparkle of Yuuri’s eyes, and promises he will. 

* * *

The onsen is a battleground of repressed urges and red skin from things other than the heat of the spring water.

Victor has long since come to the realization that he’s physically attracted to Yuuri. Really, one couldn’t even call it a realization, since he had never hesitated in feeling it or thinking about it. 

He’s felt that attraction ever since nearly two years ago, when he had first seen Yuuri cutting into the ice with his graceful step sequences and spins, each twist of his hips a piano key and the arch of his back a world-class violinist’s sonata. 

So, no, he doesn’t have a problem with being physically attracted to Yuuri. Or emotionally attracted. That's what was more of a realization, one he copped to after he started buying poster after poster, his interest in the Japanese skater becoming known well enough within his inner circle to warrant rinkmates and Chris gifting him various merchandise.  

Victor remembers lying awake one night and thinking about Yuuri’s routines, thinking about his own, that he realized not only has he been gifted new inspiration, but a crush, too. 

Regardless of the past, the onsen is now, and it’s a little, uhm, _hard_ , to deal with. 

Yuuri doesn’t seem the least bit nervous, which struck him as odd at first before remembering that his normally easily-embarrassed, sweet, green carnation grew up in this place. Culturally, nudity is just something he accepts. It’s normal for him, and he doesn’t think twice settling into the same spring water alongside another person. 

Victor, however...

Russia has banyas, and he’s been to them; just on a rather few occasions. Victor isn’t used to this. No, he doesn’t care about other people, he cares about  _ himself _ and  _ Yuuri _ and the  _ very intimate parts  _ on display here. 

The steam isn’t the only thing making him dizzy. 

* * *

Victor watches Yuuri stroke Vicchan, the dog resting peacefully in his lap. They’re in what would be Victor’s room for the next two weeks; an unused banquet room adjacent to Yuuri’s own. 

_ Thinking of Yuuri’s room... _

“Yuuuuurii,” Victor whines as he scratches his own dog behind the ears, “Why won’t you let me into your room? We could sleep together, it would be fun!”

Yuuri’s cheeks color charmingly, and he sputters for a good five seconds before responding. 

“V-Victor! Because!”

“Aw, because why?” Victor goads. Teasing Yuuri is just too much fun! “What, is there something embarrassing in there? A deep dark secret you’ve been hiding?” Victor’s been leaning forward somewhat menacingly as he says this, picking at Yuuri’s stubborn nature. 

“N-no, nothing like that!” Yuuri asserts frantically. “I just...” Victor just stares on in hope. Yuuri sighs. “Okay, fine.” 

“Yes!” Victor whoops, and jumps to his feet the best he can without jostling Makkachin too much. “Let’s go right now!”

“No!” Yuuri shouts back, hoisting Vicchan into his arms and standing in front of the door. “I-I have to do something, just wait!” 

With that, he races out of the room into his own, and forcefully slides the door shut. The lock clicks behind him, and Victor is once again staring in awe after Katsuki Yuuri. 

* * *

After a few minutes, Yuuri finally unlocks the door and gives him the go-ahead. Victor steps in and--well, he didn’t have any preconceived notions. It’s not like the moment is earth-shattering, it’s just...intimate, in a way. Interesting, to stand in the space Yuuri spent his entire life up until moving to Detroit.

Yuuri lets down a squirming Vicchan, who proceeds to follow Makka around the room and join in the curious sniffing. Yuuri himself shifts from foot to foot, ringing his clothes in that little anxious way when he feels especially vulnerable. 

“So, uh,” Yuuri says weakly, “Ta-da?” 

Victor laughs. “Ta-da, indeed! Your room is so cute, Yuuri! Just like you!” 

Victor always takes immense pleasure in the way Yuuri’s skin seems to light up in pinks and reds with each sentence he utters; it’s intoxicating in a way, to have such a physical affect on someone he loves. 

His first love, really. 

Victor’s been in relationships before, sure, but he’s never loved any of them. He grew bored easily, and  _ yes _ , he  _ knows _ how dick-ish that sounds, but it’s  _ true _ . 

Victor’s not even in a relationship with Yuuri, for god’s sake, and he doesn’t know if Yuuri would even want that. The push and pull of Yuuri’s affections, his hot and cold nature, leave Victor paradoxically wondering and knowing. 

He  _ knows _ Yuuri likes him, but  _ how _ ? He  _ knows _ Yuuri admires him, but  _ in what way _ ? Victor’s caught Yuuri looking at him before, a tell-tale spark of attraction in ruddy-brown eyes, and he wants to tell Yuuri before he looks away, _ it’s okay, I’ve been looking too _ , but how would Yuuri  _ react _ to that? Is there anything beyond simple physical attraction?

A life with Yuuri in it is truly an unending chain of surprises. 

“A-ah, thank you,” Yuuri replies, looking away, suddenly finding a random spot on the wall very interesting. 

Victor assumes he’s free to poke around; Yuuri makes no objections. He walks around the room while Yuuri eventually sits on his bed. Victor sees well-worn walls--covered in pale spots as if something's been removed--cute themed erasers on his desk, a laptop, a dresser, a...keyboard?

“Yuuri, can you play piano?” Victor asks, running his finger along the dust of the stacked keyboard. 

“Oh!” Yuuri exclaims, jumping up and investigating with him. “I used to, a little, and then I figured out I was no good!” Yuuri giggles, and Victor grins along with him. “So it’s just here.” 

“Can you play something for me?” Victor requests while carefully getting the keyboard onto the floor. “I bet you’re wonderful at it.” Victor obviously doesn’t know either way, but he bet Yuuri could bang two pots together and he’d find it beautiful. 

“Oh, I don’t know...”

“Please, Yuuri, please?” 

Yuuri sighs, but there's no real annoyance behind it. It’s fond, and Victor’s never felt more loved than when Yuuri sits next to him, smiling, and nudges Victor’s shoulder with his own. 

“Okay,” he relents, “I’ll try.” 

* * *

For not practicing for about a decade or so--according to Yuuri--he’s not terrible at all. He can play all the basics, and it’s more than Victor can do. He’s impressed, as he always is with Yuuri, and he tells him so before they split off to go to bed.

“Oh, I don’t think it’s anything so interesting...” Yuuri deflects, and pushes a lock of hair behind his ears. It’s probably for the best, because Victor’s hand was starting to itch to do that himself. 

“Nonsense! You’ve got to accept it, Yuuri: you’re impressive whether you like it or not.” Victor leans against his door frame and smirks slowly at Yuuri’s fluster. “But you know, Yuuri, I really do have to ask you something.” 

“Ah,” Yuuri sobers and looks at Victor seriously. “What is it?” 

“Are you sure we can’t sleep together?” Victor pouts. “It’s like a sleepover!”

Yuuri’s cheeks redden again, but this time there's no anxious flurry across his face. He narrows his eyes, and steps back. 

“ _ Goodnight _ , Victor.” 

Yuuri slams the sliding door shut and Victor laughs all the way to bed. 

He cuddles Makkachin with a smile on his face--one he's getting used to having.

These are the best days of his life, Victor is sure.

And god, are they sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha I try to update within 7 days but it sometimes gets away from me. 
> 
> This one was the most difficult chapter to write thus far. Victor is my fav but I've never really written in his POV before. What an adventure!
> 
> A couple notes:  
> -A banya is a Russian sauna!  
> -In the background of Yuuri's room, you can see an electric keyboard laid against the wall, so it's an hc of mine that Yuuri can play piano, or he used to. That's where that came from!  
> -The part w/ Victor describing Yuuri's movement with instrument stuff? That's actually what I wrote when I was first conceptualizing this story! It's the only thing from the original bullet-point conception that actually made it in  
> -If you're wondering why I specifically mentioned green carnations, please google it! Too much interesting stuff for me to briefly explain here!
> 
> I hope this one was good, despite my inexperience. Thank you for your continued support, and I'll see you next time!


	15. New Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡⚆ ͜ʖ ͡⚆)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> late and short. I have a good explanation, though; it'll be in the end notes.

Victor’s working on something, and he won’t tell Yuuri what it is. 

It’s a routine, Yuuri knows that. His free skate. But that’s it. Victor won’t tell him what it’s about, the music, the steps--even the  _ jumps _ are off-limits. Victor’s gone so far as to make him stay out of Ice Castle while he works on it. 

“It’s beautiful,” Yuuko told him the other day. She’s lucky enough to get to see it. 

She’s also the one who helps keep Yuuri out of the rink, the traitor.

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” Yuuri had grumbled, then sighed. “I just don’t get why he won’t let me see! I know he owes me nothing, but still...”

Yuuko’s smile had grown from affectionate to mischievous in a moment’s notice.  

“I get why!” Yuuko sang teasingly. “And you will, too! Soon.”

And that had been the end of it. No more hints from Yuuko, Victor refusing to budge...

As much as Yuuri is disappointed by it...

_ I just have to wait this one out. _

* * *

“Mari?”

“Hm?” Mari looks up from laundry folding to see Yuuri hovering at the door; halfway in, halfway out, like he can’t quite decide if he actually wants to be there.

“Can I...ask you about something?”

Mari hides a smile; Yuuri may be all grown up, but it warms her that he still looks to her for advice. 

No matter how much time has passed, no matter how far apart they are, Yuuri will always be her baby brother. 

“What’s up, kid?” 

Yuuri huffs a little, but he doesn’t protest being called  _ kid _ . God, Mari can remember when she called a teenaged Yuuri that; it hadn’t gone over quite well. They were nearly the same height at the time--Yuuri still just a bit shorter--and her brother had tried to stand taller, puffed out his chest, and said with complete certainty,  _ I’m not a kid anymore, Mari! _

Mari sometimes wonders if he was right; the poor thing grew up too soon in a number of ways. Little kids shouldn’t have a fear of raising their hand in class so severe they cry at the thought. Kids shouldn’t have to stick to such a tightly wound routine that a second off would practically send them into hysterics. Kids shouldn’t have to practically suffocate due to their perceived burdens. Kids shouldn’t shouldn’t have to  _ worry _ so much. 

Yet Yuuri always did. While the other children freely dove into pools, Yuuri had to be convinced that he wouldn’t hit his head and drown. Yuuri had to be persuaded away from the thought that people’s eyes were inexplicably glued to his every breath. Mari had to hold his hand to go on downward escalators together, so Yuuri would  _ get it _ that he wouldn’t fall.  

Yuuri rarely thought of the moment; mostly of the consequences. The only times Mari saw him really let go were when he slept, danced, or skated. Her brother, muscles so coiled it seemed as if sometimes he could barely breathe, came alive when performing. Yuuri soared like the beautiful person he was, destined for something  _ vast _ and  _ more _ . And Mari is so damn proud of him.  

Of course, she can’t say that much so bluntly. Yuuri doesn’t take praise well; he always has to find something wrong, find a way to deny, much past the point of being politely humble. It’s a damned shame, but Mari shows her support however she can. 

Yuuri’s closed the door and stepped inside the laundry room. It’s private enough, a separate room away from guests like any other inn or hotel. They used to come here and talk for some privacy during dinner rushes. 

Mari’s smile grows. 

_ Some things never change, huh?  _

“Are you...” Yuuri trails off, clearly fumbling for words. “Are you really okay with this?” 

Mari cocks her head and sets down the half-folded bed sheet she was working on. “Okay with what?” 

“You know.” Yuuri replies. Mari has an idea, but she wants  _ him _ to say it. “Vicchan coming with me.” 

“Ah,” She sighs, and turns to finish the sheet. “Yuuri, he’s  _ your _ dog. And you haven’t seen him in so long. You have the right.” 

“But he’s yours too!” Yuuri moves across the room to stand by her side, anxiety rolling off him in waves. Mari shoves a pile of laundry toward him to keep his hands occupied. “He’s yours and Mom’s and Dad’s.”

“Yuuri.” Mari says firmly, “Do you want this? Do you love Vicchan?” 

“Of course I do!” Yuuri sounds scandalized that she would even  _ suggest _ that he didn’t love the little energetic ball of fuzz. 

It’s good, Mari thinks, that he feels that way. If he didn’t, this whole process would hurt a lot more. 

“Then you need to take him. I don’t think either of you could handle it if you had to part again.” 

Yuuri’s quite, folding his own linen. The look in his eyes is more decisive than before. Mari knows she’s right, and he knows it, too. 

“Take him, Yuuri.” She says gently. “Just remember to visit with him. Besides,” She snorts, “It’s not like you’re leaving Vicchan in some desolate wasteland. He’ll have you, Makkachin, and Mr. Living Legend to keep him company, too. Not to mention all the friends you must’ve made there.” Mari nudges her brother’s shoulder with her own. “You and Vicchan won’t be alone.” 

Yuuri’s quiet for a minute. Within that time, Mari had gone back to her folding, but she does mostly certainly hear Yuuri’s tiny, whispered  _ thank you _ . 

All in a day’s work, really, for Katsuki Mari. 

* * *

Yuuri gets a call from Yakov three days before they’re due back in Russia.

“Katsuki, I wanted to ask you: did you know about Yuri’s cat living in the flat?” 

“A-ah,” Yuuri stutters, “Kind of? I never saw her...” That’s a lie. Yuuri had seen Potya enough times that the cat warmed up to him enough to cuddle up. Though, he doesn’t know if Yurio knows Potya hangs out with him. 

Regardless, best not to be thrown under the bus. 

“Right,” Yakov exhales, in a way caught between faith and disbelief. “Well, I just wanted to let you know that the owners of the building found out about Potya and they’re making Yuri take it out. Though you should know, so it won’t seem strange if things have been moved around. I’ll see you in three days.” 

“Yeah,” Yuuri replies numbly. “Three days. See you then.” 

* * *

“What?!” Victor exclaims when Yuuri tells him the bad news. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“I swear I’m not,” Yuuri says thickly. “I don’t know what to do now. All the paperwork has been signed! Where will Vicchan  _ go _ ?” 

They’re sitting in Yuuri’s room this time; Vicchan is cuddled up on his lap, nuzzling into his chest when he senses Yuuri’s distress. He’s reminded once again of how much he loves this dog. 

Yuuri supposes it’s lucky that they never told Yakov that Vicchan would be coming; it’s well-known that pets aren’t exactly welcome in those dorms, but Yurio was doing it, so maybe it wasn’t enforced? 

Yuuri’s just happy he’s not in any hot water along with Yurio. 

“Hm,” Victor places his index finger onto his bottom lip. “Yuuri, I might have an idea as to how this can work.” 

“How?” Yuuri moans, “This is a disaster!” Makkachin whines with him. 

_ True solidarity _ , he thinks. 

“Yuuri,” Victor says slowly, “What if you didn’t live in that complex anymore?” 

“What?” Yuuri snaps his head up from looking at Vicchan. “How would that work? Where would _ I  _ go?” 

“With me,” Victor replies quietly. “You two could come with me.” 

Yuuri exhales shakily. “What do you mean, exactly?” Yuuri might get what he means, but he can’t bear assuming anything. 

“The both of you,” Victor says carefully, taking a deep breath, “Move in with me.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, hello. It's been two weeks, and if you read these notes, you'll know that I always try to update within a week, tops. But there's been a lot going on.
> 
> First things first is pretty much my regular life. Everybody knows schedules can get crazy and we lose track of things. Secondly, I've been hit with a major depressive episode that lead to a small breakdown which in turn cost me two days of attendance. I painted, watched TV, and took long walks for about four days before I was ready for class again. 
> 
> Finally, one of our family pets died about a week ago. Lime, the pet in question, was very old and we were sort of expecting her death, but we thought she would just go to sleep and not wake up. No, instead Lime had a major stroke, right in front of my sister, who had essentially raised her. Lime took 8 hours to finally succumb to the damage the stroke did. It was not a peaceful death. 
> 
> So, I've just been really tapped out lately. I barely managed to get this done. But I want to make it clear: I like doing this! Y'all or this story are not burdens on me! You all have said before that it's okay to take a break, and my workaholic mind has been trying to take that into account.
> 
> Anyway: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Did I surprise you with that last bit? I hope so. I also hope that the part with Mari didn't come off as hamfisted. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and supporting me. Until next time...


	16. No More Greensleeves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ┬┴┬┴┤ʘ‿ʘ)╯├┬┴┬┴

“Wow!” Victor says when they get Yuuri’s bag from the skater dorms. “You really didn’t pack much, did you?”

“I didn’t see a reason to,” Yuuri replies. It’s sort of a distant response, though; he’s still in shock about the fact that  _ he’s going to be staying with Victor now _ .

_ If I’ve ever needed self control _ , he thinks,  _ now’s the time.  _

“Besides,” Yuuri adds, “Phichit is holding on to some stuff for me in Detroit.” 

“Oh, stuff?” Victor asks, a touch suggestive, as he flutters around Yuuri’s soon-to-be old room. “What kind of  _ stuff _ ?”

“A-ah, well, you know...”  _ Don’t talk about the body pillow! _ “Books and stuff...Nothing interesting...”  _ Yes, I totally don’t have enough pictures of your face to match me in weight! I didn’t kiss the ones at home when I was a teenager! Nope, not at all! _

“Yuuuuuuuri,” Victor trills, the way Yuuri can tell he’s been seen through. 

“Victor, really, don’t worry about it.” 

Victor pouts but, once he sees the imploring look in Yuuri’s eyes, he lets it be. 

There's a comfortable silence until Yuuri finishes. He stands, wiping over his brow unnecessarily. 

“Well, I think that’s it! And Yurio already left, so I think we’re good...” Yurio--along with Potya--was taken in to live with Yakov and Lilia. Sort of an odd mix, Yuuri thinks, but as long as everyone’s happy, right?

“Did you check all the drawers?” Victor asks, hovering over the desk. 

“Yeah, I should’ve...”

Unfortunately, Yuuri hadn’t been as thorough as he thought he was. 

Victor opens the bottom-most drawer, and...

“Oh, Yuuri, what’s _ this _ ?” He asks, holding up the one  _ framed poster Yuuri owns and shoved away to prevent this exact situation and then forgot it was in there. _

Yuuri snatches it from him in record time, holding it poster-Victor’s-face-side to his chest. He knows it’s too late, though; Victor’s seen it already. 

“Nothing, don’t worry about it!” Yuuri sighs and slumps to the ground when Victor raises a skeptical brow. “God, I’m so creepy, you probably don’t want me anywhere near you, huh?”

“What?!” Victor exclaims, dropping to the floor with him. “Of course I want to be near you!”

“Why?” Yuuri asks, incredulous. “I have a damn framed poster of you, isn’t that like, over-the-top?” 

“Maybe,” Victor says, but backtracks when Yuuri moans self-deprecatingly. “I mean, I’m flattered!” 

“No you’re not. You can say you’re creeped out, it’s fine.” Yuuri’s still holding the frame to his chest, knuckles going white over the edges. 

“I’m really not...I’m actually very happy, Yuuri.” Victor tips his chin up, their eyes meeting. “I’m honored you like me so much. Besides,” Victor releases Yuuri’s face and looks away, sort of bashfully. “I’d be a hypocrite if I said anything like that about you.”

Yuuri’s grip loosens on the frame, but he doesn’t move much. “You’d be a hypocrite..?”

“Yuuri,” Victor says, standing, “When we get home, I have something to show you.” 

* * *

“I didn’t mean to lie to you,” Victor says, fidgeting in the foyer of his-- _ their _ (!)--apartment. “O-or hide anything...”

“Victor...” Yuuri lays a hand on one of his biceps. Victor’s eyes flicker to his. “It’s okay. I understand. Show me?”

Victor looks down at the hand on his arm, and back to Yuuri. He looks a bit spooked, and honestly, it’s a little unnerving. Makkachin and Vicchan are apparently asleep as well, adding to the uncanny atmosphere.

“Okay,” Victor breathes. “Okay.” He grabs Yuuri’s hand. “Come with me.” 

_ Always _ , is what Yuuri doesn’t say. He hopes that maybe he’ll be brave enough one day.

Victor leads them to his bedroom, and then to a closet. It’s not the first time Yuuri’s seen it, but the first he’s been  _ inside _ . 

Sadly, Victor releases Yuuri’s hand to open the closet. Yuuri misses his warmth.

But those feelings fade to the background in face of what Victor pulls from hiding. 

_ It’s...me? _

And it is. It’s a poster. Of Yuuri. His image is caught in a step sequence, back facing the camera and just beginning to look over his shoulder. Yuuri recognizes the costume; his free skate, from last season. A white sort of tunic with flowing sleeves dipped in blue, black pants as is his default, hair slicked back as normal. He thinks that, if he looks close enough into the blurred background, he’d be able to determine which competition it was.

Though, Yuuri figures, his response should probably be more than a jaw drop and silent staring, if the nerves flowing off Victor in waves are to be taken seriously. 

“...Yuuri?” He asks, “You’re staring, oh I knew this would happen! I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, but--”

“When?” Yuuri blurts, cutting him off. Victor makes a questioning sound from his throat. “When did you...I...”

“Oh! Um,” Victor rolls the poster back up, busying himself twisting a rubber band around the center to hold it closed. “I got this one in December, I think. Maybe November?”

“No,” Yuuri’s at least thankful he doesn’t have to look at it anymore, “I mean, you have this...” Victor hesitates, but nods all the same. “Why?” 

“Why?” Victor parrots, “Isn’t it obvious?” 

_ Yes. _ “No.” 

“It means...” Victor wrings his hands in front of his chest. “That I like...you. Your skating. For a long time.” 

_ Oh my god, he’s seen all my fuck-ups, _ is among the first realizations Yuuri comes to. Also,  _ My idol has been watching me skate _ , and  _ My idol owns a fucking poster of me. _ Yuuri tries not to register that it’s one of the posters with a butt shot. 

“Since when..?” 

“Ah,” Victor sighs, moving to sit over on the bed. Yuuri does the same. “Maybe a couple of years ago now, sort of by chance? I saw a routine of yours; someone else at the rink was playing it on their phone, and...” Victor breathes deeply while Yuuri’s chest seizes anxiously. “It was beautiful.  _ You _ , were beautiful.”

Yuuri recalls the day he first met Victor. He remembers not quite believing he would live past that interaction. He feels almost the same now, but...he doesn’t want to hide from this. Yuuri wants to hear more, hear how Victor thinks he’s beautiful, likes his skating, likes  _ him _ \--Yuuri doesn’t know how far Victor’s affections lie but by God, he’ll take what he can get.

“I...was?” Yuuri asks, cheeks flushed, head dizzy, and resisting the urge to tell Victor how long he’s been watching, that he fell in love with him first through a television screen and now in person, together. 

“You  _ are _ .” Victor clarifies, meeting Yuuri’s eyes. He’s smiling again, sort of in a shy, boyish way. Yuuri’s heart skips. “I saw you and, God, Yuuri, the way you moved...” He trails off again, which is something he seems to be doing a lot of today. Yuuri doesn’t blame him. “You skated like your body was creating the music. You’re so passionate in the way you dance, so honest in your steps.” Victor licks his lips nervously, and Yuuri tries to be discreet as he tracks the path with his eyes. “I wanted-- _ want _ \--to be like you.” 

Yuuri’s eyes widen in awe. “You look up to me?” 

“Yes,” Victor says, smile growing wider. “I do. Do you remember my routines two seasons or so ago?” 

“Of course,” Yuuri responds, too shocked and fascinated to retain a filter. “They were considered your most artistic. You were minimalistic on the jumps, but bold in your step sequences.”

Victor’s smile turns shy again, and Yuuri swears-- _ knows _ , he corrects himself,  _ knows _ \--he sees pink spread from Victor’s permanently-flushed nose to his cheeks. 

“So you liked them, huh?” Yuuri nods, and Victor looks almost relieved. “Good. They were inspired by you.”

Yuuri had already figured out where this line of dialogue would lead, but it still sends a thrill up his spine to hear Victor say it. 

“Tell me more?” Yuuri asks. 

Victor’s eyes widen. “What?” 

“You said they were inspired by me. How?”  

“Well,” Victor chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck abashedly, “I already told you, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Yuuri says, scooting closer to Victor, close to his face, his _ lips _ . “But tell me again. Tell me  _ more _ .”

And so, after a shaky exhale and more blushing, Victor does. He tells Yuuri how he was inspired, what he noticed, the things he loved and admired. The things he still  _ does _ . He tells Yuuri how honored he feels to watch him practice, help with his jumps, see him smiling and laughing and  _ working hard _ , and  _ God _ , Yuuri can feel himself  _ losing it  _ with all the dreamlike wonder falling from Victor’s lips, and all he can think is  _ I love you, I love you, I love you, _ and before Yuuri quite realizes he’s moved, he’s doing something about it. 

Interrupting Victor mid-sentence, Yuuri presses his lips to Victor’s, inexperienced on his part and messy on Victor’s unprepared, and it feels  _ right _ . 

When Yuuri pulls back after just a moment, Victor is stock-still, mouth still hanging open. Yuuri feels the surety drain away, like it always does, replaced with white-hot dread sparking in the back of his head. 

“Oh my god,” Yuuri breathes, “Oh my god, Victor, I--” He’s about to apologize, explain himself, fix whatever boundary he’d obviously crossed, but Victor cups both his cheeks and leans forward with a kiss of his own. 

Yuuri gets the idea to, you know, _ kiss back _ after a little bit, shocked and mystified despite the fact he had done the exact same thing only a moment ago. 

When they part, Victor is still cradling his face like he’s something precious, looking down at him in what Yuuri bashfully would call  _ reverence _ . 

“So,” Yuuri says, breaking the heavy silence, “That was alright, then?” 

And Victor laughs. He laughs and laughs, letting go of Yuuri’s face to clutch his stomach, but there's no mocking in it, only genuine  _ joy _ . 

“It was definitely alright,” Victor finally replies, still giggling and smiling like he’s been given the world for Christmas. “More than, really. Was that alright for you?” 

Yuuri lets himself giggle too, anxious and tired and giddy all at once. He parrots Victor, “It was definitely alright. One could say, more than.” 

Victor kisses him again, and again, and  _ again _ ... 

“You know,” Victor says, in between embraces, “I have more than one poster of you.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not, I promise!” Victor laughs. “They were actually hanging up, but I took them down from obvious places when you came over.”

Yuuri ducks his head. “I was doing the same thing...”

Victor’s smile is brilliant, like the sunrise on their morning walks to the rink, and kisses Yuuri again. 

This time, when they part, Yuuri feels the warmth stay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been gone nearly three weeks b/c mental/physical health and school reasons, but I hope this at least somewhat makes up for it (lol). 
> 
> I honestly thought this chapter was gonna be longer than it was, but I see no use in drawing it out. I knew they were gonna get together in this part, but the way it happened was sort of surprising? Once again, the characters take matters into their own hands!
> 
> Thank you for the continued comments, bookmarks, kudos, hits, etc etc. You've really motivated me to do this. I really don't deserve you guys sometimes. 
> 
> Next time: victuuri is together, but what happens now?


	17. After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shows up more than a month late with 15 empty starbucks cups* hi

Yuuri awakes to a ceiling fan spinning calmly above him. That’s not much of a bother, though; he’s at that point in the morning where it feels as if reality hasn’t quite yet realigned itself. 

He rolls over to see...nothing. 

Sure, there's a room with four walls and an excessive number of lamps, but not the one person he’s looking for.

_ Victor.  _

Yuuri scrambles for his glasses, legs tangling in the foreign bed sheets. Irrationally, just for a moment, white-hot fear blooms in the back of his head; he wonders if it was just a dream, but no, of course not. The bed is bare, but he’s still in Victor’s room. 

Yuuri stands, shaky, listening for any sounds in the apartment. He presses his ear to the closed bedroom door and hears...singing?

Yes, singing. He finds Victor in his-- _ their? _ \--kitchen, singing and humming as he cooks, er,  _ something _ . The song is something in Russian; Victor’s singing sort of off-key, but Yuuri finds it beautiful anyway. He’s relaxed, and that’s what matters. 

Yuuri gasps when both Vicchan and Makkachin headbutt into the back of his knees. Victor jumps, clearly alarmed, but relaxes once he turns. A slow, sleepy smile spreads across his face. Yuuri’s heart leaps, but what else is new?

“Yuuri,” He says, quietly, reverently. 

“Hi,” Yuuri replies, practically whispering. He doesn’t want to disturb the quiet, soft atmosphere, helped along by the muted morning light. 

“Hi,” Victor parrots. His smile grows wider. “How’d you sleep?”

“...Well,” Yuuri says, after a moment. “I don’t remember any dreams...”

“I remember something,” Victor says, turning off the stove. “It was sort of like a dream. Would you like to hear about it?”

“O-oh?”

Victor hums, taking long, slinking steps to where Yuuri stood in the doorway. 

“It was a lovely dream, about the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. We kissed, and fell asleep beside each other,” Victor winks and clutches his hands over his heart. “Probably one of the best nights of my life.”

Yuuri wants to play it “cool,” so to speak; he wants to tease back, maybe tell Victor he had a similar dream--the same. But his heart was invading his throat, trying to make a break for it, likely into Victor’s hands, where--he hopes--it’ll be safe. 

Yuuri settles for a deep flush, a swallowed heart, and jaw-aching grin threatening to tear his cheeks apart. 

Victor seems to understand, because he coos and hugs Yuuri to his chest. Yuuri’s hands come up to clutch the back of Victor’s shirt. He presses his face, glasses and all, into his chest.

“So,” Victor says after a few moments of just  _ being _ , “May I assume you’ve had a dream similar?”

Laughter, ridiculous, high-pitched laughter forces itself through Yuuri, and suddenly, he can’t stop. He knows he probably looks stupid, giggling hysterically into his.. _.Victor’s _ chest, whatever they are now. Yuuri can feel Victor laughing with him. 

Eventually, he calms down, and pulls back. Yuuri feels his eyes growing wet. 

“How do you always know what I’m thinking?”

“Well,” Victor replies, pulling back to take Yuuri’s hands in his own, “Perhaps it’s just practice, but a part of me thinks I’m meant to.”

Yuuri cocks his head a bit. “You’re meant to?”

“Yeah,” Victor ducks his head shyly, “I mean, I sometimes think that there are people you’re destined to meet, and you have a special connection with them.” He looks up intently, straight into Yuuri’s eyes. “I think we’re a pair of those people, Yuuri, meant to meet.”

Yuuri stares on in awe. He doesn’t notice the tear slowly tracking down his face until tickles his cheek. He wipes it away quickly, and waves away Victor’s well-meaning alarm. 

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” Yuuri says as placatingly as one can while on the verge of tears. “I’m just happy, that’s all. I’m sorry I always cry, I don’t mean to--”

“That’s okay!” Victor interrupts, “It’s okay that you’re crying, I just want to make sure you’re okay.” He leans across the kitchen counter for a paper towel. “I never know what to do when people are crying...”

Yuuri chuckles and blows his nose. “That makes two of us. But you’re handling it really well.”

“Thank you, Yuuri,” Victor says, ardently. “Really, thank you.”

Yuuri has a feeling he’s being thanked for more than that one encouragement, but he doesn’t bring it up.

Yuuri also has a feeling that the dogs are in need of attention, by the way they’ve begun headbutting their legs again. Vicchan yips for good measure. 

“Okay, okay!” Victor grumbles, although not unkindly. He switches back into Russian, but Yuuri can pick up enough to know he’s half heartedly telling them--Makka, really--off for ruining the moment. Vicchan’s run over to the food bowls, too, after getting enough affection from Yuuri. 

Yuuri smiles, small and shy, and wipes his eyes again. It’s a place he never thought he’d be; a nice apartment, skating professionally--successfully, if he’ll allow that one admission--with a  _ somebody _ who loves him, friends, and two cute dogs to top it all off. 

Yuuri waits for Victor to feed the pups before approaching.

“Victor,” He starts quietly, placing a hand on Victor’s forearm. 

Before Victor can reply, Yuuri leans up, kisses him quick, chaste, and rocks back down. 

“Thank you, too."

Victor’s wistful smile makes his chest ache. Victor kisses him this time, long and slow. He doesn’t reply, besides asking Yuuri to sit down with him for breakfast.

_ Honestly _ , Yuuri thinks,  _ he doesn’t have to ask.  _

Yuuri looks over his cup of coffee at Victor, who funnily enough is doing the same thing.

_ I don’t know how long this will last. _ They sips their drinks.  _ I don’t know how this season will go. I don’t know what everyone’s reactions will be.  _

_ That would normally send me running to the hills, but...I’m actually kind of excited.  _

Yuuri resettles into his chair contentedly.

_ I can’t wait.  _

* * *

Later that night, Yuuri answers Phichit for their usual video chat.

“Hey, you know that observatory girl that helped me with music once?”

“Yeah, yeah!” Phichit replies, “You didn’t end up using that music, though, right?”

A stab of guilt blackens his heart, but Yuuri recovers before any panic can start.

“Yeah, I didn’t. I don’t have her information anymore, but...”

Phichit smiles; it’s obvious he understands what Yuuri needs. 

“I’ll put out feelers for her. Thinking about some music of your own again?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri says, “I’ve got a few ideas rolling around.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I didn't mean to take this long. The holidays, mucking about with my medications, and now finals are jerking me around something fierce. I'm sure you all know I'm sorry. 
> 
> I hope everyone had a good Christmas, and Happy New Year!! 2018, yay, time to eat tide pods! (pls don't eat tide pods. you'll die)
> 
> This isn't the longest chapter, but it's sort of an interlude? I've set up competition stuff, so we're getting there...I swear...
> 
> Thank you for reading, and supporting, and waiting ever so patiently for my dumb ass. I appreciate you a lot.
> 
> As always, until next time...


	18. Cup of China

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Competition season is here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :^)

October 20XX

Cup of China

Yuuri braces his hands against the nearest wall, shaking his hips out to loosen his lower back. 

_ In, and out. In, and out.  _

* * *

The standings, as of when it came time for Yuuri’s skate, went like this:

JJ Leroy in first.

Christophe Giacometti in second.

Otabek Altin in third. 

Emil Nekola in fourth.

Cao Bin in fifth.

And finally, Yuuri in sixth, only by virtue of randomly selecting his turn as the final of the short programs.

“Breathe, Katsuki, breathe,” Yakov says as Yuuri clenches his knuckles against the barrier. “Your training will not betray you. Make us proud.” 

I can betray myself, is not what Yuuri replies. Instead, “Yes, coach.” He doesn’t look up. His joints are white like bone. He feels someone lean in close.

“Yuuri, darling, look at me.” 

Yuuri glances up to meet Victor’s eyes. Victor, who was essentially a stowaway on this excursion. He hadn’t told Yakov he’d booked a ticket with them to China until the morning of departure. Yuuri almost smiles at the ridiculousness his boyfriend can pull. 

“Yes?” 

“Take a deep breath, Yuuri. You’re here, I’m here, Yakov’s here. You’re about to be amazing.” Victor lightly smooths his hand over the backs of Yuuri’s. “We’ve run out of time. Go.” 

Yuuri takes that deep breath, releases his grip on the barrier, and goes. 

* * *

A touch down on the quad salchow, and nothing else.

Well, nothing terribly obvious, anyway. The rest of his jumps were fine, but he could feel there  _ was _ something else. Once Yuuri left the rink and was heading to the kiss and cry, Victor was bouncing around him, at first with praise, and then...

“That step sequence in the second half...you got too caught up in trying to land the jumps and you lost focus!” Victor says as they sit down.

“Vitya,” Yakov interrupts, “You are not his coach, stop acting like it. But he is right Yuuri, we need to work on keeping that salchow consistent and doing something about your technique in the second half.” 

As Yuuri replies with a dutiful  _ yes, coach _ , he hears Victor mumble, “I’m kind of his coach...”

Yuuri snorts and pats his arm. “It’s alright, Victor, we know.” 

“And now, the scores for Katsuki Yuuri--”

The three look anxiously towards the board as the announcer sounds out the score. 

Yuuri leans forward--partially from disbelief, but mostly because he can’t see anything without glasses--and gasps. 

His personal best, and the score itself...

Victor cheers and hugs him. Yakov just hums, but Yuuri knows the sound to be approving.

October 20XX, Cup of China, 2nd place in the short program. 

Yuuri feels a smile spread over his face, one he couldn’t hold in even if he tried. He leans into Victor’s hold before they stand up and move away for the next skater. 

Even as they walk backstage, Victor stands close enough that their hands brush lightly as they walk. 

* * *

“So,” Victor says once they return to their hotel room, “how are you feeling, Mr. Second-Place-But-Will-Be-First-Tomorrow?”

Yuuri laughs as he gathers new clothing for a shower. “Good, but don’t jinx it! I still have tomorrow, you know, and the others are really good, too...”

Victor wraps his arms around a now-standing Yuuri, Yuuri’s back against Victor’s chest. Victor playfully rocks them back and forth. 

“My Yuuri, we’re not jinxing anything by being confident! You’re allowed to believe that you’ll win.” 

Yuuri hums anxiously and squirms a bit, though he leans back into Victor when his boyfriend moves to let him go. 

“I know that, but, it’s...”  _ uncomfortable, selfish, unlikely  _  “nevermind.”

Victor moves his head down to watch Yuuri’s profile. “Nevermind?”

“Nevermind.” 

Instead of arguing, Victor just closes his eyes for a moment, and releases Yuuri with a squeeze to his hips. Yuuri immediately misses the contact, but he’s glad they won’t argue about this. 

“Now,” Victor says, “You go take a shower, I’ll see what room service has for us.” 

Yuuri hums again, but before Victor can walk away, Yuuri grabs his arm and leans up to kiss his cheek. 

“Thank you,  _ Vitya _ .” 

Yuuri bites his lip and holds his giggles as he saunters to the bathroom; the look on Victor’s  _ face _ ! 

...

Victor watches Yuuri walk away, and he knows Yuuri is trying not to laugh at him; Victor can feel his face burning red and closes his jaw. 

_ Oh, god.  _

Yakov’s been calling him that for nearly 20 years, but it sounds a very, very good _ different _ coming from Yuuri.

Victor sort of hopes Yuuri calls him that forever. 

He hopes Yuuri calls him that _ in front of others _ , forever, though he knows it’s unlikely right now. 

It’s not that they’re not going out, because they  _ are _ , thank Jesus, it’s just that they’re not really telling anyone?

Well, they’re rinkmates, obviously, know. So does Yakov. It’s too much to keep it  _ that  _ covered up. But to the general public? No, no, not yet. 

They had a discussion about it, a few days after they officially got together. Yuuri’s such a private person, bordering on shy sometimes. Victor knows he has anxiety, and so this is about making Yuuri comfortable.

Victor aches to hold Yuuri close--er, well,  _ closer _ \--in public, kiss him in front of the crowds, and while Victor doesn’t want to call it  _ staking a claim _ \--that’s a little possessive--it’s sort of what that is, isn’t it?

Victor runs his hands through his hair to get ahold of himself. The discussion of their public vs private life was necessary, and the outcome, for Yuuri’s sake, was  _ wait _ . 

And Victor can wait; he can. He nods to himself. 

Yes, he’ll be whatever Yuuri needs him to be. 

* * *

When he came off the ice today, Yuuri wanted to kiss Victor, so badly. He wants to do it now. He wants to do it forever, but especially then, and perhaps especially right now.

Showers are...therapeutic, or at least Yuuri considers them so. His mind, it’s always so  _ go go go _ , that it’s soothing to step into a room with no outside stimulation. This is a time for  _ him _ , and although the thought of resting, even just for a bit, can be enough to be guilt-inducing, Yuuri knows that he needs it.

In hotel rooms especially, what with the endless supply of hot water, he can just be, with water droplets sliding down his skin; the steam may make it hard to breathe, but he grew up in a damn  _ hot springs _ . He can take a little heat.

Yuuri thinks about today, and through it, through all the anxiety about _ everything _ , a giddy smile spreads across his lips. 

Second place, him! In his first Grand Prix qualifier, and only after the short program! He has a shot at gold and  _ oh _ , isn’t that a hysteria-inducing thought? 

This season’s theme-- _ Love _ \--it’s so different from anything he’s ever done, but he can’t feel self conscious about it. The idea of love is so revealing, but it’s  _ real  _ and  _ true _ and  _ standing outside the bathroom door _ ! His Victor.

Or Vitya, as he just called him, and based on that reaction, he’ll be doing it more often. 

Now, back to the original predicament: Yuuri wanted to kiss Victor today, in front of everyone, but he didn’t. Couldn’t. It’s not what they agreed on, and Yuuri could never force Victor to do something potentially exposing or uncomfortable. It’s not right, not matter how much he wants that intimacy, that closeness, always, all the time. 

He supposes that this is what’s called the Honeymoon Phase, but he can’t imagine it ending. He can’t imagine a day where he won’t look at Victor, and think  _ wow _ . 

Maybe someday, however long they stay like this, in love and together, their will be a time when they can flaunt it. Show the world,  _ yes he’s mine, and I’m his, and you can’t take this away.  _

But not now. No matter how much Yuuri wants this, he won’t make Victor uncomfortable. If Victor wants this on the down low, he can do that. 

Yuuri dresses and heads for the door.

Panic attacks, later. Dinner, now. 

(How many times has he thought that?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello, I'm back!! It took me nearly 7 months, but I did it, and I have a new chapter.
> 
> There's...so many reasons why this is late, but I'll spare you excuses. It's here now, and that's what matters, and I'm hoping to start posting more regularly again. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you all, in my time of absence, for being so kind! You've all been encouraging, and even months and months after my last update, I still get comments interested in more. That's amazing to me. I feel like this little thing is not nearly good enough to justify leaving y'all alone so long, but I'll do my best to make up for it.
> 
> Also also, how about that Ice Adolescence announcement, huh? Are y'all as excited as me? I can't wait, and tbh the leading weeks/days to the movie I'll be throwing up from nerves like 24/7 lol. Even if you're not excited, I'd love to hear your opinion. 
> 
> (I'd also like to hear your opinion on this, and if anything cool has happened in your life! It's been too long, my friends!) 
> 
> And now, off to my DnD group!
> 
> Until next time... (aka hopefully soon)

**Author's Note:**

> So like...I haven't written fiction in more than a year. Meta and other nonfiction I can do, but this? Mostly escapes me. I'm so out of practice, I hope it was acceptable. Forgive me for any transgressions against fic writing (like how short this initially is...). 
> 
> Anyway, you can hit me up on tumblr @v-niliforov!! If you like, you could also, you know, comment on the fic? What I'm doing right, wrong, whatever. I live off the rush any feedback gives me.
> 
> Thanks, I'll see you next time!
> 
> (oh, and did you catch the movie reference?)


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